


Love You Like I'm Gonna Lose You

by eternaleponine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Clexa Holiday Special 2017, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Ice Skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 113,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke agrees to go to the holiday fundraising event for her mother's research into a rare blood disorder that kills most of its victims before their 18th birthday.  There she meets Lexa, whose she feels an instant connection to.  An attraction that is inadvisable, considering that Lexa is one of Abby's patients.For Clexa Holiday Special 2017, based on the prompt "ice skating".





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke fought the urge to immediately jerk away when her mother touched her shoulder and leaned in to whisper something into her ear. She'd been thinking a lot about her father lately; it was impossible not to with the holidays just around the corner. He had always been so into them, insisting that they start decorating the day after Thanksgiving, playing Christmas carols 24/7 while they were still eating leftover turkey... There hadn't been anything about them that he didn't love (including endlessly driving up and down the aisles in crowded store parking lots, which had led to Clarke teasing him that she was going to have to call the men in the white coats to come take him away... it wasn't funny now, even though it hadn't been that kind of a man in a white coat who'd told them that she wouldn't be seeing her father again, ever) so now there wasn't anything about them that Clarke didn't hate. 

Last Christmas she hadn't gotten out of bed and her mother hadn't made her. This year she was trying. She was trying because he would want her to try. Not just to not hate Christmas, but to not let the rift that had developed between her and her mother which they only seemed to be able to communicate over in shouts open into a chasm so wide that they couldn't hear each other anymore at all, no matter how much they raised their voices. 

"Thank you for doing this," Abby said. "I really do appreciate it."

"I know," Clarke said, and she did. Her mother was trying, too, which meant walking a fine line between trying to make things at least a little bit like they used to be and knowing when not to push. She had asked Clarke weeks ago if she would be willing to attend an event that she was holding, part fun outing for sick kids and part charity fundraiser, and entirely a nightmare to be part of, Clarke was pretty sure. 

But her conscience, which sounded remarkably like her father sometimes, told her to take the high road, do the right thing, be the bigger person, whatever you wanted to call it, so she'd said yes, sure, sounded like fun. (She thought she'd even managed to fake a smile when she said it.)

"So what do you want me to do?" Clarke asked, looking around. "Is there some table I'm supposed to sit at, or...?"

"No," Abby said, "I didn't bring you here to work. I just... I guess I just wanted the moral support."

Clarke's teeth ground against each other. Moral support? Every fucking person here was here to support, morally or otherwise, the great Dr. Abby Griffin and her pioneering research on a rare blood disorder that manifested itself in a fraction of a fraction of the population, but which killed every single person who had it, usually before they had the chance to graduate high school. 

"Go have fun!" her mother encouraged. "Skate rental is over there, but just tell them you're my daughter and you won't have to make a donation to get a pair."

"Right," Clarke said. "Sounds great." She forced another smile, and wandered vaguely in the direction of the window where she could get a pair of skates. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been ice skating... except that was a lie. The last time she'd been skating had been when she was twelve, and her father had taken her for a spin around the rink at Rockefeller Center while the Christmas tree was up, insisting that it was something that everyone should experience once in their life. She'd complained about it the entire time, because her father was wearing a hideous Christmas sweater and a hat with a giant pom-pom on the top, and she'd been embarrassed to be seen with him. She hadn't smiled, not once, the entire time.

"Wow," someone said, snapping her back into the present. "If I didn't know better, I would think that _you_ were the one whose blood was a ticking timebomb, waiting to turn against you at any second."

It was impossible to take the girl in all at once. Like if her brain tried to put all of the pieces together into a comprehensive whole before it processed each piece separately, it might overload. Elegant neck, sharp jaw, small ears... high cheekbones, perfectly curved eyebrows, dark wavy hair flowing out from under a knit cap, eyes just a little greener than they were blue, full lips...

Clarke forced herself back to the eyes before she got caught staring at her mouth. "How do you know I'm not?" she challenged, crossing her arms.

"Because I know every single one of the Nightbloods," the girl said. 

"Nightbloods?" Clarke asked.

She shrugged. "What we call ourselves," the girl said. "I don't know who came up with it, but it sounds cooler than calling ourselves by our diagnosis, and given that our blood is the color of tar, _c'est approprié, non_?"

"What you call..." Clarke shook her head slightly, sure she had misheard. This girl was her age, probably, maybe even a little older, or maybe it was just the way she carried herself. Like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, but it only made her stronger. There was no way that she could be...

"You must be new here," the girl said. "I'm Lexa. Lexa Woods, otherwise known as the poster child for Pramheda's Disease, because I'm one of the few to actually make it to adulthood without my body turning against me." She held out a hand, and Clarke just stared at it for a second before remembering how to actually make her neurons fire and lift her hand. 

"It's not contagious," Lexa said when their palms finally made contact. Her fingers closed around Clarke's hand and held it in a gesture that wasn't quite a handshake. "I promise."

"I know," Clarke said. "Trust me, I know—" She stopped herself before she could say something stupid like, 'I know more about it than anyone should ever have to'. "I'm Clarke. Griffin."

" _Ohhh,_ " Lexa said, something bright flickering in her eyes, and Clarke wasn't sure that she wasn't being laughed at. "I'm going to assume that it's not a coincidence that you share a last name with my doctor, and a first name with my doctor's daughter."

Clarke pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "That would be a hell of a coincidence," she said. 

"Yes, it would," Lexa said. "She's mentioned you, but she never told me how—"

Clarke didn't get to find out what her mother hadn't said, because they were interrupted by two kids coming up to them... or really, to Lexa. One was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. The other was a girl a little bit younger, probably nine or ten, with hair that was nearly black, and eyes a darker shade of green than Lexa's. She threw her arms around Lexa's waist, and Lexa cupped the back of her head with her hand, the closest thing to returning the hug she could manage given the height difference. She reached out with her other arm and pulled the boy against her side. "Aden, Madi, this is Dr. Griffin's daughter Clarke. Clarke, this is Aden," she tilted her head toward the boy, "and Madi," she nodded to the girl, who spun around to face Clarke, and then latched onto her for a hug. 

Clarke let her cling for a moment, not sure what else to do, before gently peeling her away. "Nice to meet you," she said. 

"Is your mom here?" Madi asked. "I need to say thank you for having this party for us."

"She's around somewhere," Clarke said. "I'm sure you'll see her at some point."

"We're going to go skating," Madi said. "I've never been skating before. Aden is going to show me."

Aden winced slightly, like maybe this hadn't been entirely his idea, or maybe he just wasn't really comfortable with being responsible for someone when it was their first time on the ice. 

"We'll go with you," Lexa said. She winked at Clarke before she had a chance to object that she really didn't feel like skating, that she wasn't particularly good at it, that she would probably be more of a hindrance than a help... and there was something in that look that made the words dry up on her tongue. 

"Yay!" Madi cheered, and took Clarke's hand in her mittened grip, pulling her toward the line to get skates. 

It took a few minutes to get them sorted out, since Madi forgot what size shoes she wore, and there was nowhere in the immediate vicinity for her to sit down. Finally Lexa just scooped her up and set her on the counter, and Clarke tugged off one of her boots to peer inside. Then there was the process of making sure that everyone was laced up tightly enough that the skates would actually provide some kind of ankle support. Almost fifteen minutes had passed before they were making their wobbly way to the ice. 

"They have little walker things you can use," Aden suggested, pointing to a child clomping around behind a metal frame out on the rink. From their size, Clarke thought they were probably preschool age. 

Unsurprisingly, Madi was having none of it. "I'm not a _baby_ ," she said. "I'm not going to _fall_."

"You probably will," Lexa said. "But you'll just get back up and keep going. That's what matters, right?"

"Right," Madi said, her face scrunching into a look of determination as she took her first tentative step out onto the slick white surface. Her second foot followed... and immediately skidded out from under her, landing her on her bottom, hard. 

"It's okay," Clarke said, crouching down next to her, "the first time I ever skated, I fell down probably twenty times." She stayed down, letting Madi lean on her to stand up, and brushed off the bits of ice from her pants. "There you go," she said. "Just remember, you want to glide, not try to walk."

Lexa skated backward (because of _course_ she did) toward the center of the rink, out of the path of traffic and held out her hands. "You can do it," she encouraged. "Just push with your right foot and keep your left foot pointed forward." Madi did as she was told and slid forward a foot or two. "Now your left," Lexa said. "That's right, just like that." 

Madi was so focused on what she as doing that she didn't seem to notice that Lexa was moving ever-so-slowly backward, away from her, increasing the distance she had to skate to reach her. When she finally stopped and let Madi reach her, she turned her around to show her how far she'd skated, and Clarke could hear her cheering from half the rink away. 

"I guess it's my turn," Clarke said, looking at Aden with a wry smile. "It's been a while."

"I'll help you up if you fall," he said. "Don't worry. I'm stronger than I look."

Clarke swallowed a laugh, not wanting to offend him. But the idea of this twig of a boy helping her up if she fell was comical. She wasn't heavy, but she wasn't some waif likely to blow away in a stiff breeze, either. She liked the fact that she had curves, that her body had substance, no matter how much the media tried to tell her that she shouldn't. 

"Let's go then," she said, pushing off and praying that her ankles would shore themselves up after a few strokes. It wasn't exactly like riding a bicycle, but by the time they reached Lexa and Madi, she was feeling a lot less likely to have her feet slide out from under her unexpectedly. 

They skated around with the kids for a little while, until Madi decided that they should race (with Aden almost certainly holding himself back so that Madi actually thought she had a chance of winning) and left the two of them behind. 

Lexa smiled as she watched them, but there was something... wistful in the look. Clarke wasn't sure if she ought to ask, but again, she didn't get the chance as their conversation (or potential conversation) was interrupted by another collision, which sent Lexa careening into the wall surrounding the rink, and Clarke flailing and finally landing spread-eagle on her back, skidding several feet before she came to a stop. 

"Oops." A teenage girl with dark eyes and a malicious smirk looked down at her.

"Damn it, Ontari," Lexa growled, coming over and grabbing the girl's sleeve. 

It was immediately yanked away. "It was an accident," the girl – Ontari, apparently – snapped. "Don't start with me."

"I'm not starting anything," Lexa said. "Just be careful."

"Whatever," Ontari said, in the tone and accompanied by the eyeroll that had been honed by teenage girls since probably the beginning of time. "We can't all be angels," she called over her shoulder as she skated away, paying little attention to who or what was in her path. 

"If she knocks over one of the kids..." Lexa muttered, reaching down to offer Clarke a hand.

Clarke took it and found herself tugged up with more force than she'd expected. Lexa moved to put herself in Clarke's path as the momentum threatened to pitch her forward, and they held on to each other until Clarke was steady again.

Except she didn't feel steady at all, with Lexa so close. She felt like everything around them warped slightly, sound dulling, lights getting both dimmer and brighter at the same time (if that was even possible). For just a second, the whole world was just this one girl, and Clarke felt her heartbeat pick up, and not from the adrenaline of the sudden fall.

"I'm sorry about her," Lexa said. "She's... got a little bit of an attitude problem."

"She's what? Fifteen? Sixteen? What kid that age doesn't?" Clarke joked, as if she was so far past that. 

"You have a point," Lexa said, smiling a little. "But her maybe a little more than others. Not that it's not at least partially justified." Again that look, distant and a little pained, and Clarke wished she could take away whatever was causing it, take it on herself or dismiss it completely. 

"She's one of you?" Clarke guessed. "A... Nightblood?"

Lexa nodded. "She hates things like this. She always has."

"Why?"

"'Oh yay let's have a party for the poor doomed kids. Because that's not fucking sad at all.'" The change in Lexa's tone told her that she was quoting, or at least paraphrasing something that Ontari had said, maybe more than once. 

Suddenly Lexa's look made sense. She obviously cared about these kids, these younger versions of herself. It made her happy to see them having fun, acting like normal kids. But how long would it last? If this was an annual event, how many of them would be here next year? Would Aden show up taller and older, his voice cracking as it started to drop? Would Madi be here to give hugs that rivaled an NFL tackle? Would Ontari still be around to snark and roll her eyes?

Would she be here to see it?

Clarke extricated herself from Lexa's steadying grip, not wanting to be so close anymore. She saw Lexa register it as the rejection that it was, saw her sad smile. "I'm going to catch up with the kids," she said. "Protect them from being body-checked by Ontari. It was nice meeting you."

"You too," Clarke said to Lexa's back, and made her way to the nearest exit from the rink. She found a bench and sank onto it, putting her head in her hands. "Clarke, you fucking idiot," she muttered. "You stupid fucking idiot."

"Yup."

Clarke looked up and saw Ontari looming above her, that same smirk pasted on her lips. "What do you want?" she asked. "I know it's not to apologize."

"I only apologize if I'm sorry," Ontari said. "I'm never sorry."

"Then what?"

"She may be the oldest living dead girl walking," Ontari said, "but she's still a dead girl walking."

"I'm sorry, I don't recall asking your opinion," Clarke said. 

"You didn't," Ontari said. "You should, though. Because all this—" she gestured around to indicate the party, "is all a sham. No one's going to find a cure. No one's going to save us. There's too few of us for anyone to really care. You donate money for cancer research and they find a new treatment, it helps hundreds, maybe thousands of cute little cancer kids. But look around. What you see is pretty much what you get. A dozen dead kids isn't even a blip on the fucking radar. So spare yourself the broken heart."

Clarke looked at her, and it was obvious that she meant what she said... and that she might actually be trying to help Clarke in her own cynical way. It was equally obvious that this girl was angry. Fate had dealt her a bad hand, and she was going to make sure that everyone else suffered for it for as long as she did. 

Which probably wouldn't be much longer. 

"She's trying," Clarke said. "It doesn't matter that there's only a few of you. She's trying."

"Who? Lexa? What the hell is she going to do? She's like the living embodiment of hospice and Make-A-Wish and all that shit, but it's just palliative. She has no power to change the inevitable."

"No," Clarke said. "My mom."

Ontari snorted. "Oh, your mommy is going to save us all?"

"She sure as hell hopes so," Clarke said. 

"And how's she going to do that, exactly?" Ontari asked. "Kiss our boo-boos and make them better?"

"You could call it that," Clarke said. "But I'm pretty sure she's actually researching a way to stop whatever factor it is in your blood that causes your immune system to go haywire and destroy you from the inside." She shrugged. 

Ontari's eyes narrowed. "Who exactly is your mother?" 

"Dr. Abigail Griffin," Clarke said. 

"Oh," Ontari said, thrown off her game for a second as she obviously recognized the name. "She's not the first person to try. And fail. So forgive me for not getting my hopes up."

_There's always hope._ Wasn't that what people said? No matter how bad things looked, there was always hope, and you should never give up. But was that really always true? Was it possible that sometimes hope could be the enemy? Because what if Ontari _did_ get her hopes up, and her mother didn't do any better at finding a cure than anyone who came before her? Was it better for Ontari to hope for a cure and be disappointed, or to just give up and accept her fate? Was one more cruel than the other?

"Whatever," Ontari said when she didn't respond. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." She sauntered off, as much as a person could saunter when balanced on blades an eighth of an inch thick, maybe less.

Clarke went to find her mom, and instead found herself roped into helping restock the refreshment table, so she returned her skates and retrieved her shoes so she didn't risk twisting an ankle with every step. It was a welcome distraction; it gave her something to focus on other than the girl still doing laps around the ice rink, her cheeks flushed and the tip of her nose red as a cherry from the cold, but even after knowing her for only a few minutes, Clarke knew that she would stay out there with the children for as long as they wanted. 

Why? Why did she care so much? Why had she appointed herself their protector, or whatever she thought she was? 

She had just sat down when she felt someone settle beside her, a little too close for comfort. When she looked over, she saw Madi grinning at her, a cookie clamped between her teeth as she tried to tug off her mittens. 

"Here," Clarke said, taking her hands and slipping them off. Her fingers were like ice cubes, despite having been encased in fleece. She pressed one between her own hands to try and warm it, letting Madi have the other to deal with her cookie.

"Thank you," she mumbled, crumbs dropping from her lips. 

"You're welcome," Clarke said, switching hands. Madi cuddled up against her side, apparently pleased with the attention, and munched on her cookie. "Stay right here," Clarke said after a minute. "I'll go get something that will work even better."

She came back a few minutes later with a cup of hot chocolate heaped with whipped cream and topped with red sugar sprinkles, festive decoration for the holiday season. "This will warm you up inside _and_ outside."

"Thanks!" Madi said, wrapping her hands around it and taking an experimental slurp. When she lowered the cup, there was whipped cream on the tip of her nose. 

"You've got—" Clarke started, then stopped herself. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tapped to bring up the camera. "Smile!" she said.

Madi grinned, and Clarke couldn't help grinning back as she snapped a few shots before giving Madi a napkin to wipe her face. 

"She likes you," Madi said after a few minutes during which they both watched Lexa and Aden race around the rink. "I can tell."

"Oh yeah?" Clarke asked. "How can you tell?"

"Because she kept looking for you after you left," Madi said. "She pretended like she was paying attention to us, and I guess she was, but she kept looking to see where you were and what you were doing and if you were okay. I told her that I was tired and wanted a break but she didn't have to come with me so I could find you for her."

First Ontari, now this little one. She guessed maybe they were like a little family, if they all ended up showing up at events like this. Blood relations even if they had no DNA in common. "Well you found me," Clarke said. "Now what?" 

"Now I ask if you're okay. You didn't get hurt when Ontari pushed you, did you?"

"I'm fine," Clarke said. She would probably have bruises tomorrow, but she wasn't badly injured. 

"Good. Do you like her?"

"Who?" Clarke asked. 

Madi rolled her eyes, and Clarke knew she deserved it. " _Lexa._ Duh."

"I don't know her," Clarke said. "I only just met her today."

"So?" Madi asked. "You don't have to know her to like her."

"I think actually you do," Clarke said. "How can you like a person if you don't know them?"

"Well I bet you don't like Ontari but you don't know her, either," Madi said. "Not very well."

"That's different," Clarke said. "Actions speak louder than words, and deliberately knocking into someone is kind of like shouting."

"You still don't have to know her very well to know if you like her. Sometimes you just know," Madi nudged, not giving up. 

"Why does it matter to you whether I like her or not?" Clarke asked, trying to keep her tone light, like this was all some kind of joke. 

"Because I want her to be happy," Madi said. "And you. You're nice. I want you both to be happy. Really I want everyone to be happy, but I don't know if that's possible, but making Lexa be happy would be a good start." 

Clarke forced her smile to stay in place. "From what I know of her, I like her," she said. "Which, again, isn't very much."

"So you should get to know her more," Madi said. "Look, they're finally done. I'll go show Aden the cookies and you can, uh... you can bring Lexa cocoa!" She nodded emphatically at her own suggestion. "And you can warm up her hands for her like you did for me." She bounced up, almost toppling over as gravity reminded her that she was still wearing skates. "Oops," she giggled as Clarke caught her.

"Careful," she warned.

"I'm okay," Madi said. "Go! Before she gets her own cocoa and you miss your chance!" She wobbled off to drag Aden to the cookie table, and possibly to report back to him about her matchmaking efforts. 

She felt a little silly, but she went and got another cup of cocoa and brought it to where Lexa was unlacing her skates. "Madi thought you might want this," she said. 

Lexa looked up, and _fuck_ , if she'd been pretty before, she was absolutely stunning when she smiled. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry if she was bothering you."

"She wasn't," Clarke said. "She's sweet." She waited for Lexa to slide off her skates, then handed her the cup and showed her the pictures on her phone. 

"Can you send those to me?" Lexa asked. 

"Sure," Clarke said. "What's your number?" 

Lexa gave it to her, and Clarke sent her a text with the pictures attached. 

"Thanks," Lexa said. "They're perfect."

"Perfect for what?"

"Just... perfectly her, I guess," Lexa said, taking a too big sip from her cup and wincing as it burned the inside of her mouth. 

Oh. Perfect to remember her by, if it happened that next year, or whenever they would next see each other, Lexa was there and Madi wasn't. Clarke swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and blinked hard against the stinging in her eyes. 

"I know," Lexa said, reaching out and taking Clarke's hand, a gentle tug suggesting that she sit down next to her. 

"I'll be right back," Clarke said, easing her hand out of Lexa's. She went to get herself hot chocolate (which she would have done before if she'd been thinking, but she'd been focused on Lexa) and a small plate of cookies, all different kinds because she didn't know what Lexa liked, and took the opportunity to compose herself before joining her again. "Sorry. I thought you might like a snack after all that skating."

"Thank you," Lexa said. "They can be exhausting, but it's worth it."

Clarke didn't know how to respond to that, so she just picked up a cookie and shoved it in her mouth, chewing slowly. Lexa didn't say anything else either, and the silence might have been companionable if Clarke's mind hadn't been going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what to say. She swallowed the last of the crumbs and blurted out, "She's going to do it."

Lexa looked at her. "Who is going to do what?"

"My mom," Clarke said. "She's going to find a cure."

Lexa's smile managed to be indulgent without being completely condescending, but Clarke felt herself flush anyway. She was in absolutely no position to make any kind of assertion like that, and they both knew it. Even if Clarke knew more about the state of her mother's research than she actually did, even if she knew that she was right on the edge of a breakthrough, she couldn't actually _say_ it. Especially not to someone whose life literally depended on it. 

"I hope so," Lexa said. "Every year, I hope that we won't have to do this. I hope that if we get together, it's to celebrate the fact that we've all made it through another year, and not a fundraiser for research. I hope that if people don't show up, it's because they're off on some amazing trip with a family who loves them, a family who will keep them forever because they don't have to worry that today or tomorrow or the next will be the last day that they get."

"Keep them?" Clarke asked.

Lexa shrugged. "Some parents can't handle being told that their child has an incurable illness that will kill them before they're old enough to vote," she said. 

"So they just abandon them?" Clarke asked. "You can't do that!"

"Not abandon," Lexa said. "Not exactly. They – a long time ago, someone set up a special foster home for kids like us whose parents aren't willing or able to deal with the reality of what our diagnosis means. They know that they're being cared for. Maybe they think we're better off."

Clarke didn't miss the fact that Lexa changed from 'they' to 'we' when talking about the abandoned – and she couldn't think of it any other way – children. Meaning she was very likely one of them. How could her parents just give her up? How could any parent, unless they really weren't in a position to take care of a kid at that time, but if it was just because they were sick...

"The irony, of course, is that right up until the end, we're some of the healthiest kids you'll ever meet," Lexa said. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about that. This is supposed to be a party."

"Sorry," Clarke said. "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't do anything," Lexa said. "I brought it up." She glanced around, her gaze stopping on where Aden and Madi and some other kids were goofing around. "I'm going to go check on them," she said. 

"Yeah, I should make sure my mother doesn't need anything," Clarke agreed. 

They didn't see each other for the rest of the party. Maybe it was deliberate; Clarke wasn't sure. She didn't _think_ that she was avoiding Lexa, per se, but the subconscious could be a tricky thing. By the time she thought about finding her to say good night, it seemed she was already gone. She helped her mother finish cleaning things up and then got in the car with her. 

"Did you have a good time?" Abby asked. 

"I guess," Clarke said. "I mean, it's kind of hard to have a good time when you look at all the kids and you don't know how many of them will live to see next Christmas."

Lines formed in her mother's face as she frowned. "I know. It's hard. But I'm doing everything I can."

"I know," Clarke said. 

When they got home, Clarke went to her room. Her mother didn't try to stop her. She pulled up the pictures of Madi again, her eyes stinging as she looked at the girl's impish grin. Did she know? She had to know, right? That her life was already probably half over? 

She closed her eyes tight against a wave of tears and curled up under a pile of blankets, the stuffed lion she'd had since the day she was born crushed against her chest. She must have fallen asleep because she woke up disoriented when her phone chimed, signaling she had a message.

**Lexa:** It was nice meeting you.

For a second she considered not responding. After all, as Ontari had warned her, there was no way for this to end in anything other than heartbreak. But it was just a friendly message. Maybe not even friendly. Maybe just polite. It didn't have to mean anything. 

**Clarke:** It was nice meeting you too.

**Lexa:** Sorry that I disappeared on you. Madi wasn't feeling great so I ended up taking her home early.

Clarke's heart lurched. 

**Clarke:** Is she okay?

**Lexa:** Don't worry, she's fine. Just too much excitement and too many cookies. She wanted me to tell you that she was very happy she got to meet you, and she hopes that she gets to see you again soon.

She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. 

**Clarke:** I liked meeting her too. 

**Lexa:** We're decorating the tree at the house tomorrow. If you wanted to come.

**Lexa:** You don't have to.

**Clarke:** I'd love to. 

The message was sent before she let herself think about it. 

**Lexa:** I'll send you the address. We usually start around 1. 

**Clarke:** Sounds good. 

She hesitated, then added:

**Clarke:** I look forward to seeing you.

**Lexa:** You too.

* * *

Clarke didn't know what one was supposed to wear to a tree-trimming party, and she felt silly asking Lexa. She didn't want her to think that she was making this a bigger deal than it was... even though she was making it a bigger deal than it probably was. 

She finally settled on a pair of black leggings, her favorite boots, and one of her father's ugly Christmas sweaters that neither she nor her mom had had the heart to get rid of. It was way too big on her, but she didn't care. It made her feel closer to her father, and more Christmas-y, and it wasn't as if it being oversized made it any more ridiculous.

"I'm going out," she called to her mom. "Not sure when I'll be back." She was out the door before Abby could poke her head out of whatever room she was in to ask where she was going or who she was going with. Hopefully she would just assume that she was hanging out with old high school friends. 

The house was farther away than she expected, set back from the road and surrounded by trees. The driveway held a few cars, but not as many as she would have expected for a Christmas party... but then it was just the kids who lived here, wasn't it? And her and Lexa, and she guessed maybe some of the staff? Was there staff? Or just foster parents? 

She went up to the door and pushed the bell. The door was yanked open almost instantly. 

"You came!" Madi said, throwing her arms around Clarke as if she was a long-lost friend, and not someone she had just seen – and met – yesterday. "Lexa's inside helping with the lights. She isn't swearing but I know she wants to. They keep blinking."

Clarke laughed. "I hate when that happens," she said, stepping in when Madi finally moved back to give her room to do so. 

"You can put your coat there," Madi said, pointing to a long rack of pegs, "and your shoes there. We aren't allowed to wear our shoes inside because it makes too much of a mess."

"Okay," Clarke said, shedding her coat and boots, and then following Madi into a big room that was dominated by a gigantic tree. There was no way they were going to be able to reach the top of it without a ladder... and in fact there already was one, and Lexa was perched on top of it, her face creased with concentration as she wove a string of lights through the branches.

"If we just got an artificial tree with the lights already on it—" someone started, but the kids squawked in protest. 

"My father always said that it just wouldn't feel like Christmas if the house didn't smell like pine," Clarke said. 

"You can hang a few of those car air fresheners on it," the person – an older man with a shaved, or maybe just bald, head – said. "No one would know the difference.

Lexa snorted. "We would know the difference," she said. "Anyway, I figured it out. Turn them on again."

The lights switched on and this time they weren't blinking. Lexa beamed and brushed off her hands, then climbed down the ladder. "You made it," she said, coming over to Clarke. "Madi was so excited when I told her."

"I noticed," Clarke said. "The lights look great."

"Thank you," Lexa said. "That's the hardest part. Somehow every year we manage to forget everything that we learned in past years about how to not have them end up in a tangled mess, and then when we get that sorted out, there's always some issue. Blown bulbs, blinking..." She shook her head. "Can I get you something to drink? Sadly non-alcoholic." She winked.

Something inside of Clarke twinged at that tiny gesture, and she felt heat building in a place that it really, really shouldn't be. Not here, not now, not with – about – this girl. "I—"

"I love the sweater, by the way," Lexa said. "It makes me want to go change."

"Oh?" Clarke asked. She tried not to let her eyes wander, but as soon as Lexa mentioned wanting to change, she couldn't help the not-so-quick sweep from head to toe and back again. She was wearing socks that looked like they were extra warm and comfy, black jeans that adhered to her skin, with stitching details that begged to be traced, a partially unbuttoned red lumberjack plaid flannel, and underneath that what was probably a tank top with a deep scoop neck. "I think you look amazing."

She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw the faintest flush of pink rise in Lexa's cheeks. "Well then maybe I won't," she said. "Anyway, we have water, juice, and I can make cocoa, but if I make it for you, I'll have to make it for everyone, so choose wisely."

Clarke smiled. "Water is fine."

Lexa grabbed two bottles from the fridge and handed one to Clarke. "We'll be starting with the ornaments in a minute," she said. "We'll be in charge of things going on the upper branches, since we can be trusted on the ladder. I hope you're not afraid of heights."

"I'm not," Clarke assured her. One of her favorite things when she'd been little was riding on her father's shoulders, feeling like a giant as she looked down on the world around her. Which maybe wasn't much of a height, but she'd never had issues looking out the windows of tall building or anything, either, so she figured she would be fine. 

"Good." Lexa led her back into the living room, where boxes of ornaments had been brought out. There were some that had clearly been bought in stores, but most of them appeared to be home made, probably over the course of many years, by many different sets of young hands...

... most of which weren't here to enjoy it. 

The thought was sobering, but Clarke tried not to let it show. This was a celebration, after all.

But these kids seemed to have the ability to accept tragedy along with joy, more than she would expect given their ages, and when black glass ornaments were brought out that bore names and dates and etched pictures, they placed them reverently in amongst the snowflakes and Santas and walnuts painted to look like strawberries. 

"For those we have lost," they murmured, "and those we shall soon find."

Clarke felt an arm slide around her waist, and she turned to press her head into the shoulder it was attached to without thinking. Lexa's arms closed around her. "I know," she whispered. 

"It's beautiful," Clarke whispered back. "And heartbreaking."

"I know," Lexa repeated. "There are ones for other people who have passed, people who were important to use, but the black ones are for the Nightbloods." 

"Lexa," the man – his name was Titus, Clarke had found out – said. 

She let go of Clarke and turned to look at him. He held out an ornament. "Oh," she said softly. She went to take it, and climbed the ladder to place it near the top, giving it a place of honor. When she was back on the floor again, she returned to Clarke's said. "That's for Gil," she said. "He died this year."

"Oh," Clarke said. "You said there were ones for other people?"

Lexa nodded. "Was there someone you wanted to commemorate?"

"Would that be okay?" Clarke asked.

"Of course," Lexa said. "Here." She showed her some blank glass ornaments in various colors, and markers that could be used to write on them. "Take your time."

Clarke wrote her father's name, and the day he had died, and then did her best to sketch him on the slick, curved surface. The likeness wasn't great, but no one else would know that. She added a pair of antlers on his head, and then ascended the ladder to add him to the tree. 

"Perfect," Lexa said. "Now we just have to finish putting the rest on."

The tree looked pretty full to Clarke, but she suspected that like her father, the kids would insist that they weren't done until every single ornament was on the tree. No wonder they needed such a big one. 

Just as they were finishing up, the doorbell rang and one of the adults went to answer it. She came back with a stack of pizza boxes and a bag that looked to hold several bottles of soda. The kids cheered when they saw it, and started to swarm after her as she made her way toward the kitchen.

"Wait!" Madi said. "We have to do the star!"

"You're right," Lexa said. "Since you remembered, do you want to do the honors?"

"Am I allowed?" Madi asked. 

"Sure," Lexa said, with a quelling look in Titus' direction. "I'll be right at the bottom, just in case."

"Okay." Madi clambered up the ladder, and reverently took the star that was held up to her. She placed it carefully on the top of the tree, and took a moment to make sure that it wasn't leaning to one side. Her descent was slower, and she leaned back into Lexa when she got to the bottom. 

"It's perfect," Clarke heard Lexa tell her, and when Madi looked at her, she gave a thumb's up of approval. 

" _Now_ it's pizza time," Lexa said, and Madi made a dash for the kitchen.

It didn't take long for the pizza boxes to be a lot emptier, and the kids to be simultaneously hopped up on sugar and too full to move. Clarke had probably eaten more than she should have herself, but the pizza was really good, and she hadn't eaten much that day. Her stomach had been too full of butterflies. She glanced at her phone for the first time since she arrived and was surprised to find that it was nearly seven. Where had the day gone?

"I guess I should probably go," she said, looking over at Lexa, who was sprawled on the floor putting together a puzzle with some of the kids. 

"Oh," Lexa said. "Right. Of course." She stood up. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," Clarke said. "I had a good time. This is the most... Christmas-y I've felt since my dad—" she swallowed and forced herself to say it, "since my dad died. He loved Christmas."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Lexa said, "but glad that this helped, even a little."

"It did," Clarke said. 

Clarke could see Lexa's throat and jaw tensing and relaxing like she was working up to something. Finally she said, almost too quietly for Clarke to hear, "If you don't have to go home yet... I would like it if you stayed."

"I don't have to," Clarke said. "I just don't want to... intrude, I guess. It's like attending someone else's family gathering."

"You're my guest," Lexa said. "You're not intruding. We'll probably put on some ridiculous Christmas movie soon, and that will get us through to bedtime."

"Okay," Clarke said. "I can stay a little longer." 

Just as Lexa had predicted, a movie was soon playing on the large screen that dominated one wall. The children scattered on couches and chairs and giant beanbags, and Clarke settled into one corner of a couch, pulling one of her small sketchbooks out of her purse. She started with Madi, but by the time the movie was over, she'd done a drawing of each of the children. They were a little rough, but it was a starting place. 

As the credits rolled, the grumbling and groaning about how they _weren't tired_ (when they so obviously were) began. The adults seemed to be intent on chivvying them off to bed, so Lexa said her good nights. Madi tried valiantly to convince her to stay, but Lexa just shook her head and said that she would see her again on Christmas.

"Christmas _Eve_ ," Madi said. "You should come on Christmas _Eve_ and spend the night."

"We'll see," Lexa said, hugging her. "Maybe I'll be like Santa and only come if you're good." 

Madi rolled her eyes. "Santa is a myth," she said. "But _fine_." She came up to Clarke and threw her arms around her. "Thank you for coming!" she said. "Did you have fun?"

"I had lots of fun," Clarke said. "Thank you for having me."

"You should come back for Christmas too," Madi said. 

"I have to spend Christmas with my mom," Clarke said. 

"Well she can come too!" Madi said. "Please? _Lexa_ will be here." 

Clarke laughed, shaking her head slightly. "Good night, Madi," she said. "'And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.'"

Madi wrinkled her nose. "What's _that_?"

"Shakespeare," Clarke said. "You'll learn about him when you're older."

"Maybe," Madi said, letting go. "If I get to be older." She forced a crooked smile. "Good night," she said, and then headed up the stairs, all of the bounce from her step gone.

_Shit._ "I'm sorry," Clarke said to no one in particular.

"No need," Lexa said, at her elbow without Clarke having realized she was there. "We all have moments where we remember."

"I shouldn't have reminded her."

"Trust me," Lexa said, "it's more awkward when people go out of their way to never mention the future. It makes us feel even more like we're not going to have one. She'll be back to her usual sunny self in the morning."

"I hope so," Clarke said. She went to the door and reached for her coat, then slid on her boots and leaned down to tie the laces. When she straightened back up, she found Lexa standing her, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks faintly flushed. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Fine," Lexa said. "It's just a little warm in here." She put on her own shoes and coat, and then stepped outside. 

Clarke followed. "Thanks again," she said. "I really did have a great time."

"Do you want to come to my place?" Lexa blurted. 

Clarke blinked. She hadn't been expecting that... mostly because she'd assumed that Lexa lived here, but then if that was true why would Madi be asking her to come back on Christmas Eve? 

"You don't have to," Lexa said. "Obviously. I just... it turns out after growing up surrounded by people, I don't do alone as well as I thought I would. At school there's always people around, but when it's just me in my apartment..." She lifted one shoulder slightly, let it fall. "I just thought if you didn't have anywhere else to be... but I guess it's late and you probably want to get home."

"Not particularly," Clarke said. "On both counts." She took a step closer to Lexa, watched as she obviously had to fight the urge not to step back. "I'd love to come over."

It came out sounding a little more suggestive than she meant it to... or maybe not. There was something about Lexa that heated her blood, made her want... not impossible things, but inadvisable ones. The fact that anything that happened between them was destined to be short-lived didn't deter her, and in a way it felt as if it spurred her on. If they only had a little time, they might as well make the most of it.

"Let me give you my address," Lexa said. "Just in case."

Clarke handed Lexa her phone so she could put it right into the map app, and they separated and got into their cars. She pulled out of the driveway behind her, glad that the drive to her apartment wasn't too long so she didn't have much time to think about what she was doing, or was considering doing. Unless she was reading things all wrong, and Lexa just wanted company, not _company_.

Any illusions that they might not be on the same page were shattered when, as soon as the apartment door closed behind them, Lexa's hand slid up against the side of her neck, and their mouths met in a soft, hungry kiss. Clarke grabbed her by the pockets of her coat and drew her in so that their bodies pressed together, her lips parting under Lexa's, her tongue slipping out to trace the curve of her lower lip. 

"Clarke," Lexa whispered against her lips, but nothing more as Clarke let go of one pocket to instead thread her fingers into Lexa's hair, deepening the kiss again until she felt her pulse pounding through every part of her body, but especially between her thighs.

When Lexa finally pulled back to catch a ragged breath, her lips quirked into a teasing smile. "Don't you want a tour?" she asked.

"The only thing I want to see," Clarke said, "is your bed. And you, naked in it."

This time there was no doubt whatsoever that Lexa was blushing, but her smile didn't falter. If anything, it turned into more of a smirk. "Take off your shoes," she said, toeing off her own boots and letting them topple in a heap on the floor. 

Clarke's soon joined them. "Take off your coat," she countered. 

Lexa did, tossing it over the back of a chair rather than spending the time finding a hanger and putting it in the closet. Clarke threw hers on top of it, and then reached for the buttons of Lexa's flannel, working them open even as Lexa pulled her in to kiss her again. 

Their progress to the bedroom was slow as they stumbled and fumbled their way out of their clothes. By the time Lexa finally fell back on the bed, Clarke's knees on either side of her hips as she leaned over her, they were only in their bras and panties... and Lexa deftly unhooked Clarke's bra a moment later, sliding the straps down her arms. Clarke took a moment to lift her hands from where she'd planted them on the bed on either side of Lexa's head and flung the bra away, then pulled Lexa up to do the same.

"Oh god..." she murmured as she lowered herself down, Lexa's arms coming up around her back, so that they were belly to belly, chest to chest, so much soft skin pressing and gliding. "Lexa..." She pressed kisses down the column of her throat and out across her collarbone to her shoulder, then back again and down her sternum. Her fingers teased along Lexa's ribs and down to her hips before coming up to cup her breasts, her thumbs tracing the pebbled skin of her nipples, feeling them come to points under her touch. 

Lexa gasped and her back arched as Clarke took first one, then then the other into her mouth, rolling her tongue over the peaks, lavishing them with wet, sloppy kisses. Her hips rolled beneath Clarke like she was seeking contact, friction, and Clarke suppressed a grin. Perhaps patience wasn't one of Lexa's strong suits... but then who would want to be patient when the idea that each moment could be your last was much more of a reality for you than for the average person? 

She continued her expedition down Lexa's body, measuring the topography of her against her own body, mapping her with her fingertips and palms, marking new territories with her lips and tongue and teeth. Lexa tried to grip any part of her she could reach, and as Clarke reached the apex of her ascent up her inner thigh, she surrendered a hand to her to cling to as she pressed her lips against the damp material there at the summit, soaked through with Lexa's arousal. 

"Please," she moaned. "Clarke, please..."

"I'll need my hand back," Clarke said, "just for a second."

Lexa let go of it, and Clarke hooked her fingers under the waistband and tugged her panties down, sliding them down Lexa's long legs and dropping them to the floor before sliding back up her body to kiss her, slow and deep and thorough.

Lexa found her hand again, lacing their fingers together as they kissed. Clarke crept her other hand down her belly, and Lexa's breath caught as one fingertip brushed over her clit before parting her slick folds. The gasp turned into a groan as the finger slipped over her opening and then inside of her, testing her reaction before she added another finger, working them in and out of her in a steady rhythm. Lexa's teeth grazed her lower lip as she bucked into the touch, and Clarke pulled back from the kiss, grinning down at her before trekking – much more quickly this time – south again. 

Lips sealed over hot flesh, and Lexa's entire body tensed as Clarke flicked her clit with her tongue, working over and around it as she continued to work her fingers inside of her, crooking them slightly to tease the inner wall, and the world went muffled as Lexa's thighs clamped over her ears as she shuddered through an orgasm that left her making sounds somewhere between a whimper and a moan. 

Clarke didn't pull away until Lexa tugged on her hand. She looked up and Lexa was looking back at her, pupils blown wide, silently asking her to stop but also begging her for... what? Closeness, Clarke guessed. Comfort. 

" _Fuck_ , Clarke," she muttered, nuzzling against Clarke's ear once they were comfortably entwined. "It's... been a while, but..." She shook her head with a soft laugh.

"I'm not sure how I should take that," Clarke teased. "It sounds like a compliment, but then at the same time, you're kind of implying that you were so desperate—"

"No," Lexa said, her lips tipping down. "That's—"

Clarke kissed the corner of her mouth, not to stop her from talking, but to show her that she wasn't being serious. "I know. Thank you."

"No, thank _you_ ," Lexa said. 

"You will," Clarke said, claiming her lips, holding her and stroking her back gently until she'd started to recover muscle control. She could tell that Lexa had her wits about her again as the kisses became less lazy and more insistent, and Lexa drew her in closer. Then her thumbs hooked through the elastic at her waist, pushing it down, and they pulled apart only long enough for Clarke's panties to join Lexa's on the floor. 

"You are so beautiful," Lexa said, rolling Clarke onto her back and leaning half over her. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder, forming a curtain that dimmed the light that crept in from the hallway. They hadn't bothered to shut the door; there was no one else here to walk in on them anyway. 

"So are you," Clarke said, tracing the ridge of muscle that stood out on Lexa's upper arm. 

"I wasn't fishing for a compliment," Lexa said. 

"I know," Clarke replied. "Doesn't mean you're not getting one." 

Lexa rolled her eyes, but she was fighting back a smile, and Clarke pulled her down to kiss her, and then let Lexa explore her body much as she had taken in Lexa's, touching and tasting, finding all of the hard lines and soft curves... more of the latter on her than the former, but she didn't hear any complaints from Lexa about it... rather the opposite, as she cupped the weight of Clarke's breasts in her hands, lavishing them with kisses and caresses before moving down to her hips and the soft swell of her belly. Her fingers teased along her legs, tickling a little as they brushed over her knees, then doing much more than tickling as they parted her thighs and Lexa settled her weight between them, moving up to kiss Clarke one more time before burying her face between her legs.

"Lexa!" she gasped, fingers scrabbling and gripping the sheets as she plunged into her with her tongue, dragging the flat of it up to part her lips, and then sucked just hard enough when she reached the swollen nub that Clarke let loose a string of profanities as her nerves lit up like the fuse to a firework. 

No one had ever done this... not that no one had ever gone down on her before, but no one had ever done _this_ , had ever managed to get her so close to coming with just a few licks, but _fuuuuuck_ she was close, and she didn't even have the excuse of it having been a while, because it really hadn't. A couple of weeks since she'd finally kicked her ~~boyfriend~~ bad habit to the curb. 

"Please..." she whispered, "Lexa, please..." 

Lexa obliged, seeming to know exactly what to do and how to do it to send Clarke spiraling over the edge, two long fingers thrusting deep into her just as she came so that a second climax followed fast on the heels of the first, and her entire body buckled and collapsed with the intensity of it as Lexa coaxed out every last spark of pleasure before pulling away, wiping her face and hand on a tissue before curling around Clarke and pulling up the covers over them. 

"Don't go," she whispered, her lips brushing Clarke's ear. 

"As if I could," Clarke murmured back, but then, to reassure her, added, "I wouldn't. I don't want to," and sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

Clarke woke up the next morning to a face full of hair, and it took a second for her to remember where she was. They'd dozed off, and she'd woken once in the middle of the night and had to nudge Lexa awake to find out where the bathroom was. The answer had been a mumbled 'across the hall...' but when she'd gotten back, Lexa had been awake enough to kiss her, and it had been a little while before they'd slept again. Now it was morning, and her stomach was gurgling, the pizza they'd had the night before a distant memory. 

She pressed a kiss to the back of Lexa's shoulder, and was rewarded with a turn of her head, and then she rolled over fully, twining long, slender limbs around Clarke and giving her smile and a peck on the lips. "Breakfast?"

"Please."

She had to borrow pajamas to slip into from Lexa, because it was never a good idea to cook naked and something didn't feel quite right about putting her father's Christmas sweater on over, well, not much else. 

The kitchen was small, but not so small that they couldn't both be in it. It was oddly comfortable, this moment of domesticity with a girl that, when it came right down to it, she hardly knew. They decided against pancakes, because Lexa didn't have any buttermilk and she insisted they wouldn't be acceptable without it. Instead they had toast and eggs and some sausage that Clarke was pretty sure contained no meat, but it tasted all right. 

"I should get home," Clarke said, once the dishes were done and in the drainer. "My mom is probably wondering where I am."

"Oh," Lexa said. "Right. Of course."

"I'm home for a few weeks," Clarke said. "We can see each other again." 

Lexa brightened at that. "Do you want to at least shower before you go?"

Clarke felt her hair, tangled where it had gotten matted against the pillow, and she was pretty sure the smell of sex – really _good_ sex – clung to her skin. "Probably a good idea," she admitted. 

Less of a good idea... at least if the goal was getting clean... was Lexa joining her in said shower. But when she stripped down and stepped into the tub, who was Clarke to say no? 

She finally left late that afternoon, when her mother had switched from text messages to voicemails to express her concern about Clarke's whereabouts. She kept meaning to answer, and it wasn't as if Lexa was preventing her from answering... she was just damnably distracting, with her forest eyes and full lips and silky skin stretched over taut muscles and subtle curves... 

"I'll call you," Clarke said, her hand on the doorknob, "or text you."

"I'll look forward to it," Lexa said. 

Clarke considered going in for one last kiss, but she'd already done that twice, no, three times today, and every time they'd ended up horizontal, trying to get their fill of each other and finding that no matter how much they got (off), their desire wasn't quite sated. 

"I'll see you soon," she added, and stepped back before Lexa could get any ideas. Lexa stayed in the doorway, watching her, and Clarke blew her a kiss as she opened the door to her car. Lexa caught it and mimed tucking it in her pocket, saving it for later, and Clarke's heart... and other places... throbbed.

* * *

"Where were you?" Abby asked when she got home. 

"At a friend's house," Clarke said. "I'm sorry I didn't text or call you back. I must have completely silenced my phone; I didn't hear it." Which was a lie, but maybe it woul assuage her mother. Not that she got a say anymore; Clarke was eighteen and could do what she wanted. And it wasn't as if Abby was the controlling type anyway. Usually. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Abby sighed. "It's fine," she said. "I was thinking pizza and a movie?"

"Make it Chinese and you've got a deal."

* * *

The next morning Clarke woke up to discover that the cold from hell had marched in and set up camp overnight. She spent the next three days curled around a box of tissues, eating chicken soup and sipping tea and being generally too miserable to do anything but watch Netflix and nap. 

It was only when the worst of it had passed that it occurred to her that she'd told Lexa she would contact her and she never had. She hoped that Lexa didn't think that it was anything she'd done, or that Clarke had just wanted her for a one-night stand. She wasn't sure what she wanted, exactly, or what they were to each other, but she sure as hell didn't want Lexa thinking that she would just ghost her. 

**Clarke:** Hey babe. Sorry I disappeared on you. I got sick and I haven't been able to think for the last three days. Hope I didn't give it to you. ♥

A little over-the-top, maybe... maybe a little _too_ friendly? Or more-than-friendly? She hit Send anyway. 

She stared at the screen for a few minutes, waiting for the little bubble that would indicate Lexa was typing back to pop up. It didn't, and Clarke tried not to let it worry her. Was Lexa pissed? Had she had second thoughts after Clarke left? Probably she was just busy. Even though they weren't her kids biologically, Aden and Madi and the rest of the Nightbloods were obviously important to her, so maybe she was over at the house with them. 

And hour passed, and part of another, and still nothing.

**Clarke:** I understand if you're pissed. If you'd rather I just fuck off, just tell me. I won't be offended. 

Hurt, yes. Offended, no. Lexa didn't owe her anything. Including a response. But it would be nice.

She napped with her phone clutched in her hand, cursing the fact that this cold didn't seem inclined to fully loosen its grip yet. She _really_ hoped that Lexa...

Fuck.

_FUCK._

If Lexa got sick... if she really got sick, and her immune system went into high alert trying to fight it off, it could kill her. Literally kill her.

"I gotta go," she said, even though her mom wasn't around to hear her. She didn't even bother getting dressed, just shoved her feet into shoes and her arms into the sleeves of her coat, grabbed her car keys, and went.

She made the entire drive to Lexa's house ten miles above the limit, worried that a cop would appear out of nowhere and pull her over, but not worried enough to actually slow down. Or really too terrified of what might be happening, or have already happened, with Lexa. 

_Oh god, what if I get there and it's already too late?_

She slammed her car into park, swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat, and pounded on Lexa's door. When there was no answer after nearly a minute, she yanked her phone from her pocket and called her. "Pick up, pick up, pick up..." she muttered as it rang, turning and squinting into the darkness behind her. She spotted Lexa's car in the lot, so she had to be home. 

The call went to voicemail. Clarke hung up and dialed again. "Please, Lexa," she whispered. "Please, just—"

"'Lo?" Lexa's voice was a croak, like she'd just been dragged out of a deep sleep. 

Clarke let out a breath. Maybe that was all it was, and at least she was alive. "Lexa. It's Clarke. I'm sorry I disappeared and I understand if you hate me, but can you please just answer your door? Just so I can see that you're okay. You can tell me to fuck off, and I will, I promise, just please—"

"Clarke." Her name was followed by the sharp bark of a cough. "Just... hold on..."

"Okay," Clarke said. "Okay. I'll wait right here."

It felt like an eternity before she heard the lock turning, and then the door opened a crack, and then a little farther, and Lexa looked out at her. Except she was only a shell of herself, her skin pale and clammy, her hair limp, hanging in unwashed clumps. Her knuckles were white where she clung to the door as she stepped back to let Clarke in. "I don't... hate you..." she said, the words broken up by ragged wheezes. 

Clarke's eyes filled with tears. "You should," she said, catching Lexa by the elbows as she stumbled, getting her over to the couch and sitting her down before going back to the door to close it. She went back and knelt in front of her, taking her hands and kissing them. Her skin was dry, rough at the knuckles, and her fingers were like ice, even while the rest of her seemed to radiate heat. "I did this to you. I got you sick."

Lexa squeezed Clarke's hands, but it seemed to involve far more effort than it should have, then pulled away as her entire body was wracked with a cough. 

"I'm calling an ambulance," Clarke said. "And my mom."

For a second, she thought Lexa would object. But then Lexa nodded... or really just blinked, her eyelids drooping and then coming back up so slowly Clarke was afraid they wouldn't make it. She held on to Lexa's hand as she dialed 911, giving the dispatcher Lexa's address first, then explaining that her friend had a rare autoimmune disorder and that she needed to get to the hospital right away. 

"We're sending someone now," the dispatcher said. "Make sure your outside light is on. If possible, have someone wait outside."

"I can't leave her," Clarke said. 

"All right. That's all right. They'll be there soon."

After she disconnected, she immediately called her mother... something she did so rarely (usually she texted) that her mother picked up right away, probably assuming (rightly, in this case) that it was an emergency. "What's going on?"

"It's Lexa," Clarke said. "She's sick. Mom, it's... I already called the ambulance, but you need to meet us at the hospital. You need... you need to save her."

"What did you—" Abby started, then stopped. "I'll go now," she said. "If I'm not there when you get there, I'll be there soon. I'll call the ER to let them know she's coming, and that I'm coming. Just hang in there, and tell her to hang in there too."

"Thank you," Clarke said. She heard sirens down the street, and risked leaving Lexa to run to the door, throwing it open as the ambulance pulled up to the house and the EMTs got out, going to the back to get the gurney. 

She watched as they checked Lexa's vitals, answered the questions that she could and let Lexa answer the ones that she couldn't. She was fading fast; Clarke could see it. She tried to stay within her line of sight because every time she moved out of it, Lexa would twist her head around to try and find her. Finally they had her on the gurney and were preparing to roll her out. 

"Where are your keys?" Clarke asked. "So I can lock up." Lexa pointed toward the door, and when Clarke looked she saw them hanging on a hook there. She went and grabbed them, locking the door quickly. 

They were in the process of closing the back doors of the ambulance as she ran up. "Wait!" she said. "I need to go with her. Please."

The EMT hesitated, then nodded and let her climb up. She thought she saw relief in Lexa's eyes when she sat down, and she reached out to touch her cheek, the part that wasn't covered by the oxygen mask. "Just hang in there," she said softly. "My mom will be waiting for us. You'll be okay."

They both knew she might be – probably was – lying about the last part, but Clarke thought Lexa needed that lie as much as she did. She stayed out of the EMT's way, but tried to keep contact with her as much as she could. If something happened, she wanted Lexa to know that there was someone there with her, someone who cared about her maybe more than either of them had realized. 

When they pulled up, her mother was there. She shot a quick look at Clarke, then turned her attention to Lexa. Before Clarke could even process what was happening, the gurney with Lexa on it had disappeared behind a door, and when she tried to follow, her way was blocked. "I'm sorry," one of the nurses said. "Only family beyond this point."

"She has no family," Clarke said. "I'm her friend. I came with her, I—"

Her mother appeared at the door. "It's all right," she told the nurse. 

"Of course," the nurse said. "We just have to be careful."

"I know," Clarke said. "Thank you." She followed her mother into the room where Lexa had been taken, not just a curtained alcove but an actual room. They were in the process of hooking her up to all kinds of monitors, taking her vitals again, doing all of the things that should have been reassuring because if they were making this much of a fuss, that meant that she still had a chance, right? They weren't giving up on her.

She found a place at the head of the bed where she hoped she would be out of the way. "I'm right here," she told Lexa. "I'm not going anywhere." 

After a few hectic minutes, most of the people left the room, and it was just her and Lexa, her mother and one nurse. Her mother looked at the monitors and at a tablet that Clarke assumed held Lexa's chart, and then at Lexa herself. 

Lexa reached up and pulled the oxygen mask away from her face. "Just tell me," she gasped. 

Abby frowned. "It doesn't look good," she said. "There's a few things that we can try, but... you know how this goes just as well as I do. Once your immune system gets to this point, the chances of being able to stop it aren't good." 

"No," Clarke said. "No. I don't accept that. There has to be something. You've been working on _something_ , you said so, something that you hoped could—"

"Prevent this from happening," Abby said. "Not stop it once it's already started."

"But how do you know it won't work unless you try?" Clarke asked. 

"Even if I wanted to, I couldn't try it," her mother said. "It's not ready to be tested yet, especially not on a human subject. There's a very real possibility that it might do more harm than good."

Lexa lifted her right hand and made a gesture like she was writing in the air. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. "I don't understand."

Lexa shook her head and looked at Abby, pulling the mask from her face again. "Where... do I sign?" she asked. "Whatever... waiver... you need... I'll sign it. If it..." She collapsed in on herself as she coughed, grimacing when it finally passed. "If it kills me..." She lifted one hand, let it fall. "I'm dying... any...way..."

"Don't say that," Clarke said. "You're not—" She stopped at Lexa's look. She _was_ dying. They both knew it. "You're not allowed to die," she said instead. "Not yet. We barely know each other... but I want to. I want to know you... everything about you. Your favorite food and your favorite color and your pet peeves and your stupid annoying habits and the things that you think are funny that no one else does, and..." She took her hand, squeezed it. "I need you," she said. "I need you to live." She looked down so that her forehead rested on Lexa's hand that she was holding. "I need to not be the one who kills you."

Lexa reached out and tipped her face up so that they were eye-to-eye again. She shook her head slowly, saying without words that she didn't blame Clarke for this, that this wasn't her fault. But it was. Clarke had given her the cold that was going to kill her. Then she looked at Abby again. "Papers," she wheezed. "Now."

Abby hesitated, but then she left the room. 

Lexa slid down the mask. "Blue," she said as she brushed the tears from under Clarke's eyes. "Blue... is my... favorite." 

Clarke sniffed. "But which blue? There are so many. You have to show me..."

Lexa smiled. "You... know... which one." And then, weak as she was, she got enough of a grip on Clarke to pull her down until their lips met, just the softest brush, and then her eyes closed and she was gone. Her grip went slack and she fell back. 

A second later, the monitors went crazy, screeching high-pitched alarms, and Clarke was forced back.

Her mother rushed into the room as they tore the hospital gown away from Lexa's chest, jolting electricity through her. There was a horrifying silence, and then the sound of the monitors registered signs of life again. 

Clarke collapsed into a chair in the corner and started to sob. No one seemed to notice, or they just had more important things to worry about. She didn't notice that everyone else had left the room until her mother came over and put her arms around her. 

"Shhh," she said. "It's all right..."

"She _died_ ," Clarke said. 

"And she came back," Abby soothed her. "She's a fighter, and it looks like she's got something worth fighting for."

Clarke glanced up. Her mother's tone wasn't accusatory, even though it very well could have been, and probably should have been. Clarke getting involved with one of her patients created a conflict of interest that could have prevented her from being able to continue to treat Lexa... but she hadn't thought of that until just now. 

"I didn't mean for it to happen," she said. "It just did. She's..." Clarke shook her head. She didn't know how to describe Lexa. 'Amazing' didn't even begin to cover it.

"I know," Abby said. "You just can't ever do things the easy way, can you?" she asked, sounding both fond and exasperated. 

"She's still going to die, isn't she?" Clarke asked. 

"I don't know," Abby said. "She might."

"You really can't—?"

"I already am," she said. "I have you as my witness that she agreed to the treatment. If it works, she can sign the papers later."

Clarke threw her arms around her mother, crying again. "Thank you."

Her mother just rubbed her back and held her until she'd calmed down, then left her to go do... something, Clarke wasn't sure what, only that she'd been given instructions to text her right away if anything changed with Lexa's condition, good or bad. 

Clarke moved her chair to the side of the bed and took Lexa's hand, pressing the back of it to her cheek. "I hate when people throw toilet paper tubes in the recycling that still have any paper stuck to them," she said. "And people who use big words to try to sound smart, but they use them incorrectly. I like pizza and sushi... which is my favorite depends on my mood. My favorite color is green," she whispered, "at least right now."

"Which one?"

Clarke looked up and saw that Lexa's eyes had cracked open. Her skin had taken on a healthier hue and her heartrate was steady. Her breathing was more regular and some of the rasp was gone from her voice. She sent a text to her mother and then climbed into the bed next to Lexa, careful not to disturb all of the wires. "Welcome back," she whispered, easing the mask away from her face to kiss her gently. She felt Lexa's lips curve against hers, and the smile stayed as they settled against each other. Clarke twined their fingers together and kissed her hand, their eyes fixed on each other. "You know which one."


	2. Chapter 2

One of the perks of being a doctor's daughter, Clarke found out, was that when you were curled up in a hospital bed with your... whatever Lexa was to her, that was a conversation they would probably want to have at some point... no one tried to force you out of it. So she felt it when Lexa's fever broke, and when her heart stopped working overtime, and when her lungs stopped struggling to suck in every breath and push it back out again. She felt it when Lexa's body stopped fighting itself, and she eased from a fitful doze into deep, peaceful sleep. 

Her mother came in to check on her patient, looked at the monitors for longer than seemed necessary before finally looking at Clarke. "So do you care to explain this?" she said, pointing from Clarke to Lexa and back again. 

Clarke shrugged. What was there to explain? "It just happened," she said. 

"Clarke, she's my _patient_."

"I know," Clarke said. "I wasn't thinking about that. I wasn't really thinking about anything other than the fact that she's beautiful and clever and kind and she didn't want to be alone and neither did I." 

"The night you didn't come home?"

"Yes."

Abby shook her head and sighed. "You probably saved her life," she said. "If she'd been like that much longer, it likely would have been too late. The window in which we can potentially reverse the body's attack on itself with Pramheda patients is very narrow." She frowned. "I don't know why she didn't call for help herself."

"I don't know either," Clarke said softly, turning her attention to Lexa's sleeping form as if she would find answers there. "I guess you can ask her when she wakes up."

"Oh, I plan to," Abby said. "She knows what the odds are, and she knows that they get worse the older they get. She didn't seem like the sort foolish enough to gamble with her life." She shook her head again. "Do you need more blankets?"

"I'm okay," Clarke said. 

"Okay." Abby came around to the side of the bed and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Get some sleep. Let me know if anything changes."

"Do you think it still could?" Clarke asked, looking at the monitors now like they were harbingers of doom. 

"I don't think it's likely," Abby said, "but you never know, especially with experimental treatments." 

"I'll take care of her," Clarke said. 

"I know you will," Abby said. "Just don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

Clarke settled as comfortably as she could into the bed, which was wide enough for two people, but hard to get comfortable on in any position other than on her back, since it was tipped up to help ease Lexa's breathing. And then there were all of the tubes and wires that she had to avoid for fear of tripping some alarm on one of the monitors. 

"Good night," she whispered to Lexa. "I'll be right here in the morning."

* * *

She woke up to fingers running through her hair, brushing strands back from her face. She looked up and saw Lexa smiling at her, the oxygen mask gone, replaced by a nasal cannula. It made it easier to accept the offered kiss. 

"How are you feeling?" Clarke asked. 

"Amazing," Lexa said. "Waking up next to a beautiful girl is always a good way to start the day."

"Do you have a lot of mornings like that?" Clarke asked before remembering that Lexa had mentioned something about it having been a while. 

"Not enough," Lexa said, "but I hope to have more." It was phrased as a statement, but Clarke could hear the slight lilt of her voice, turning it into a question whether she wanted it to be or not.

"Me too," Clarke said. She laced her fingers through Lexa's, careful not to dislodge the pulse-ox monitor from her forefinger in the process. "I'm sorry I got you sick."

"You don't know that you did," Lexa said. "It could be that we both caught it from someone else. Maybe at the ice rink." She turned toward Clarke so she could look her fully in the eyes. "I don't blame you. For all we know, maybe _I_ gave it to _you_."

"If you were getting sick, there's no way that you would have exposed all of the kids to it," Clarke said. "I may not know you that well, but I know that much."

"You're right," Lexa said, "but you wouldn't have either, if you'd known you were about to get sick, which you didn't. It doesn't matter now who gave it to whom. I'm still here."

"Thanks to Clarke," Abby said, appearing in the doorway. Clarke started to pull away from Lexa out of ingrained high school habit; even though she knew it wouldn't matter to her mother whether she was hooking up with boys or girls (the details of The Talk she had received had included both), it didn't mean she wanted to get caught in the middle of fooling around with _anyone_. "Care to explain how you let yourself get into that state?"

Clarke felt Lexa's hands tighten, and when she looked at her face she saw that her cheeks had a faint flush that had nothing to do with temperature, either internal or external. "I thought I was fine," Lexa said. "We're generally healthy, but that doesn't mean we don't occasionally catch colds. I thought I was fine, that I was fighting it off, until it suddenly went from maybe a six to an eleven in the span of less than an hour."

"And how long after that happened did Clarke show up?" Abby asked.

"A few minutes," Lexa said. "Fifteen, twenty at the most."

Clarke looked at her sharply. If what she was saying was true, then her realization that she might have gotten Lexa sick coincided almost exactly with when Lexa had gotten sick, or sick _er_. Sick enough that it could kill her. Because it had taken about fifteen minutes to get from her house to Lexa's. 

"You should have called right away," Abby said. "When you first felt yourself getting sick. You shouldn't have waited for it to reach—"

"Mom," Clarke said, stopping the lecture before it could really find its legs. "We can't change what happened in the past. She's fine now. You gave her your treatment and it worked." 

"Which reminds me," Abby said, "there's some paperwork that you need to sign." She retrieved a sheaf of papers from a folder and set it on the bedside table, rolling it over to Lexa. "It would be in both of our best interests if you were to date them with yesterday's date," she said dryly. 

"I don't even know what the date is," Lexa admitted. "I lost track somewhere along the way."

"It's the sixteenth," Abby said. 

"Oh good," Lexa said, taking back her hand from Clarke so that she could sign everywhere that Abby indicated. "Plenty of time to recover before Christmas."

" _Eve_ ," Clarke said. "Madi's expecting you on Christmas _Eve_."

Lexa laughed, which turned into a cough that petered out into a sigh. "I guess even your wonder-drug can't cure the common cold," she said, flashing a crooked smile at Abby. 

Abby just gave her a dour look. "No, it can't. Nor will you be allowed to expose any of my other patients to it, Christmas or no."

"But there's a treatment now," Clarke said. "There's a—"

"Are you willing to stake their lives on it working again?" Abby asked. "Are you willing to take that chance with Madi's life, or Aden's, or even Ontari's?"

"No," Lexa said. "You know that I would never do that."

"Then unless I've given you clearance otherwise, you're just going to have to wish them a Merry Christmas remotely," Abby said. 

"Yes ma'am," Lexa said, deflating as she scribbled her name on the last page. 

Abby gathered the papers up and tucked them back into the folder. "I'm going to go back sure that these are all filed properly," she said. "You rest up."

"If I don't make it, they're going to be so disappointed," Lexa said. "To Christmas!" she added at Clarke's horrified look. "I hope she'll at least let me out of here before then so when I Skype them they won't see all of the hospital stuff around. No need to panic them... or get their hopes up." 

Clarke traced her thumb along Lexa's jaw, resting their foreheads together and letting the tips of their noses brush. "She'll figure it out," she reassured her. "It worked on you. It will work on them, too, and there won't be any new black glass to add to the tree for a long time."

Lexa tilted her head to catch Clarke's lips, and for a second or two they forgot that they were in a hospital with the door half open, tangled in wires, and both of them still recovering from colds on top of it. It was only when they accidentally managed to hit the button to adjust the bed that they were reminded that this was neither the time nor the place. 

"I hate hospitals," Lexa grumbled. "If it wouldn't be AMA I would leave right now. But I know your mother is going to want to run a hundred and one tests on me, double check that all systems are running normally, before she'll even consider releasing me."

"I'll be with you until she does," Clarke said. "I won't leave unless you want me to."

Clarke caught Lexa's eyes flicking toward the door, and she couldn't help laughing. Lexa smiled wryly, knowing she'd been caught, and that Clarke had read her thoughts as clearly as if she'd spoken them aloud. "Actually," she said, "do you still have my keys?" Clarke nodded. "I would love you forever if you—" She stopped, eyes wide with not-quite-horror, but with whatever feeling it was you got when you said something that was just a thing that people said, only you realized in the middle of saying it that the person hearing it might hear it very differently than the way you intended. 

"What do you need?" Clarke asked, trying to brush it off, act as if they were just words, because they _were_ just words. 

"Pajamas," Lexa said. "I'm not a huge fan of the 'ass hanging out where anyone can see it' look."

"Anything else?"

"My phone?"

"And its charger," Clarke added. "Anything else?" Lexa shook her head. "Okay," Clarke said. "If you do think of anything, just te—have my mom text me." She kissed Lexa softly. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

* * *

When she got back, having had to take a taxi to Lexa's to retrieve her car, and having stopped at her own house to shower and change and grab some of her own things, Lexa's room was empty. Her heart lurched and she practically slammed into the nursing station, her fingers white-knuckled as she gripped the edge. "Where—"

"It's okay, sweetie," the nurse behind the desk said. "She just got moved upstairs to free up the room down here. She's fine. I'm sure she's waiting anxiously for her knight in shining armor to return." She winked. "Room 313."

Clarke found the elevator and rode up to the third floor, following the signs that pointed her to room 313. She knocked on the door even though it wasn't closed before sticking her head inside. "It's just me," she said. 

Lexa looked up from the magazine she'd been flipping through and maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Clarke thought she saw something shift in her eyes, like her smile started there before it reached her lips. "Hi, Just," she said. "I'm Lexa. Nice to meet you."

Clarke groaned. "I must have the wrong room," she said. "You look like the girl whose nice warm pajamas I brought, and you even have the same name, but I _know_ that that girl wouldn't express her gratitude by telling Dad jokes. In fact..." she couldn't help the smirk that teased at the corners of her mouth, "I believe there was mention of eternal love somewhere in there."

Lexa's cheeks flushed, and she looked down. "I—"

"I'm joking," Clarke said, keeping her tone upbeat even as her heart sank. Why had she said that? How stupid was she? It was just a joke... it had been when Lexa said it, and it was when Clarke said it, too, but suddenly the room reverberated with awkward silence. "I'm not going to hold you to it."

"Thank you," Lexa said, and the tears in Clarke's heart frayed further, the happiness that she'd only just started to feel again leaking out. "For the pajamas, I mean. Not for... shit." The magazine crumpled in her hands, and she set it down before she could destroy it entirely. "I'm going to call the nurse. See if they'll let me shower. I feel disgusting, and I'm sure I don't look any better than I feel." She hastily added, "That's not meant to be fishing for a compliment, I swear."

"I'll give you some privacy," Clarke said. "Just... text me, I guess, when... whenever." She checked her phone and saw that meter that showed how much battery she had left was red. "I'm going to go get my charger." She set the bag with pajamas and Lexa's phone and charger and the journal and paperback she'd found on her nightstand down on the bed and beat a hasty retreat.

She nearly ran into her mother, who reached out a hand to steady her. "Everything all right?" she asked, probably because she'd seen where Clarke was coming from. She probably assumed that something had happened with Lexa... and she wasn't wrong. Just not in the sense that she would be concerned about. 

"She's fine," Clarke said. "She was going to call a nurse about taking a shower." She grimaced. "I should have grabbed her shampoo and stuff." For a second she thought about going back to get them, but she remembered she'd dropped Lexa's keys into the bag with everything else, so doing so would mean facing Lexa again. 

"Were you headed home then?" Abby asked. 

"No," Clarke said. "I just need to get my phone charger from my car."

"Ah." Her mother smiled, but there was a tightness in her expression that Clarke didn't like. "You might want to consider going home, getting some rest. You're still recovering from your cold, after all, and I doubt you want to spend you break in a hospital."

"It's not my first choice," Clarke said, "but it's where Lexa is, so..." She shrugged. "I'll stay as long as she's here."

Abby sighed. "I don't think you're understanding," she said. "I appreciate what you did. You saved her life. But this... whatever the two of you think you're doing... it can't happen. Not while she's my patient. I know that you know that. There are rules—"

"The heart makes its own rules," Clarke said without thinking. It was something that her father used to say, when she was frustrated with herself for feeling something that she didn't want to be feeling, when there was no logic behind the emotion. 

"You just met her," Abby said. "You—"

"And whose fault is that?" Clarke asked. "You wanted me to go to that event, so I went. You wanted me to have a good time, so I did. Now—"

"I didn't think you would end up in bed with one of my patients!" her mother hissed. "I thought you had more sense than that!"

"So you just want me to... what? Walk away? Forget about her?"

"I want you to think with your head, not your—" Abby pursed her lips. "If you want to do what's best for her, you won't make it so that my keeping her on as a patient is ever called into question as a potential conflict of interest. I already have to consider what it would look like to a review board if they find out that I used a highly experimental treatment on a teenage girl because my daughter begged me to save her."

"I didn't _beg_ ," Clarke said. 

"Maybe not with words," Abby said, "but everything else about you..." She sighed. "I'm not doing this to be cruel, Clarke. Under ordinary circumstances, I would say that she's a wonderful girl, and that I'm happy for you. But these are not ordinary circumstances. They don't get much more extraordinary than this."

Clarke deflated. "Can I at least say goodbye?"

"Of course," Abby said, giving her a soft smile and a squeeze on the arm, like she understood that Clarke was making a sacrifice, and appreciated that she was willing to do so, so she was willing to be magnanimous. 

When she went into the room, though, Lexa was already in the shower. Clarke borrowed her charging cord to plug her phone in, sitting on the other bed in the room, currently empty (and likely to stay that way, Clarke suspected, since exposing Lexa to someone else's germs wasn't the greatest idea, even if it apparently wasn't so much of a threat that they were trying to keep her in a bubble). She scrolled through various feeds on her phone, deleting a million junk emails and rolling her eyes at her friends' winter break antics on Facebook and Instagram and everywhere else.

She had a message from her roommate, Octavia, from last night, asking what she was up to, followed up some time later by one saying she better be having too much fun to answer, because otherwise her feelings were hurt. 

**Clarke:** Sorry. I'm actually at the hospital.

**Octavia:** WHAT?! What happened???!!!

**Clarke:** AT. Not IN. A friend got sick.

**Octavia:** That sucks. Who?

**Clarke:** You don't know her.

**Octavia:** Obviously. But you've told me about some of your friends.

**Clarke:** No one I've talked about. I just met her.

**Octavia:** Must be a pretty good friend if you just met her and now you're visiting her in the hospital.

**Clarke:** It's... a long story. 

**Octavia:** You're in luck. I've got time.

Lexa chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, dressed in warm, cuddly flannel pajamas, still toweling off her hair. Again, there was that spark in her eyes when she saw Clarke, followed by a slightly more cautious smile. "Hey."

"Hey." Clarke tried to smile back, but didn't quite make it.

Lexa's smile slid away, and she looked like she was going to say something, but then stopped herself. She just studied Clarke for a long moment, and then she smiled again, but there was no joy in it this time. "Time to go?"

"Yeah."

Lexa nodded. "I understand."

_Do you? Because I don't. For the first time in years I was actually feeling like things might actually get better, that there wasn't always going to be a crater in my chest where my heart was supposed to be, and now... now it feels worse than before. Walking away feels like the wrong choice. But I wasn't given a choice. Do you understand that?_

"Wish Madi and Aden a Merry Christmas for me when you talk to them," Clarke said. 

"I will."

"Okay." 

"Okay."

Clarke unplugged her phone and shoved it in her pocket. She considered for a moment reaching out to Lexa, hugging her, holding on to her for just a moment more... but she knew that if she did that she wouldn't want to let go, so she just nodded and turned for the door. Once she was in the hallway she picked up her pace, not quite running, but close enough to it that everyone in her path scattered. 

"Clarke!" Her mother's voice, calling after her. She didn't turn, didn't respond at all. She just kept going until she was in her car again, cranking up the music so loud she couldn't hear herself cry. She drove half-blind, dashing tears from her eyes every few seconds to try to clear her vision, but it was an exercise in futility because new ones rose to replace the ones she'd just banished.

At home, she locked her bedroom door and fell facedown on the bed, stifling sobs that threatened to become screams with her pillow, and when sleep came like a dark wave, she let it take her. 

She woke up hours later to the sound of a knock on her door. She ignored it, hoping her mother would take a hint and go away. Another knock, a long pause, and then retreating footsteps. 

Clarke didn't emerge from her room until she heard her mother's door close. She went to the kitchen to find something to eat, taking it back to her room and curling back up in her nest of blankets. Her phone buzzed from somewhere in the tangle, and she scrambled to find it, even though she wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone. 

Her screen lit up with everything she'd been ignoring. 

**Octavia:** Wow, she really must be something if you're going to ignore me for her. What's her name? Is she hot? Is she a friend, or a FRIEND?

A few other notifications, and then:

**Lexa:** What are you up to?

Octavia would have to wait a little longer. 

**Clarke:** Eating leftover Chinese. You?

**Lexa:** Watching stupid reality TV and thinking of you.  
**Lexa:** No connection between those two things.  
**Lexa:** I know you said you had to go. And I get it. I do.  
**Lexa:** As someone once said to me, if you want me to fuck off, I will.  
**Lexa:** It's just  
**Lexa:** You're pretty much all I've been thinking about since that party.  
**Lexa:** You and the kids.  
**Lexa:** Mostly you.

Clarke had thought there was no moisture left in her body to cry, but it turned out she was wrong. And it hurt, _god_ it hurt, to see those words, to imagine them coming from Lexa's lips, to imagine Lexa's lips at all, and know that they were over before they'd even really begun. 

**Clarke:** I wish I was there.

**Lexa:** I wish you were too.

'I hate my mother,' she typed, then backspaced it. She didn't hate her mother. How could she hate her mother when her mother had saved Lexa? 

**Clarke:** I just couldn't risk it.

**Lexa:** I figured. It's a lot. We don't know if this was actually a cure.

**Clarke:** Exactly. You need my mother more than you need me.  
**Clarke:** Not that I'm saying you need me. 

**Lexa:** I do.  
**Lexa:** Or at least I want you.  
**Lexa:** What does your mother have to do with it?

**Clarke:** She's your doctor. 

**Lexa:** Obviously. And...?

**Clarke:** If you're my... anything... it's a conflict of interest. Potential conflict of interest.

The little bubble that indicated Lexa was typing popped up, then disappeared, then popped up again, then disappeared again without anything coming through. A few seconds later, Clarke's phone started to buzz, the screen prompting her with Lexa's name and the option to either answer or decline the call.

She answered.

"Is _that_ what this is about?" Lexa asked before she even had the chance to say hello. "A conflict of interest?"

"Yes," Clarke said. "I'm not going to take a chance on her not being able to treat you just because I think I—" She cut herself off. There was no need to pour salt into the wounds. "If people think she's not following the proper protocols, that she is giving you preferential treatment or... or anything, she could get her funding pulled, she could get taken off of the project, and then what happens? Not just to you, but to the kids? If this _is_ a cure, they deserve a chance to get it too."

"They do," Lexa agreed. "I just thought—" She stopped. 

"What?" Clarke asked. "What did you think?"

"I thought it was me. The fact that I might still... that if I get sick again, we might not be able to stop it this time. That you didn't want to be part of that."

"No," Clarke said. "It's not you. It's me." She laughed, soft and bitter, because wasn't that what you were supposed to say when you broke up with someone? To let them down gently, make them feel better? But you couldn't break up with someone that you'd never been together with, and just because she'd seen and touched and tasted nearly every inch of Lexa's skin didn't mean that it went beyond the surface.

"What if it is a cure?" Lexa asked. "What if I don't need your mother anymore?"

"We don't know that," Clarke said. "I don't know how we would know that."

"I don't know either," Lexa said, her voice barely suppressed frustration and brittle edges. "But what if?"

Clarke swallowed, but didn't – couldn't – answer. She was surprised that Lexa was even asking. Not that she knew Lexa all that well, but she seemed too pragmatic to be the kind of person who tortured herself with 'what if's and 'if only's. 

"You said you want to know me," Lexa said. "At least I thought you did. I thought I heard... maybe I dreamed it."

"You didn't, Clarke whispered. "You didn't dream it. I asked you to live so I could have the chance to get to know you." She strengthened her voice and hardened her resolve. "I wasn't thinking clearly, wasn't thinking things through."

"So that's it then? I should just forget you ever said it?"

"No. Yes." Clarke shook her head, digging the heel of her hand into one eye socket until she saw stars. "I don't know. I'm trying to do what's right!"

"Right for who?"

"You! Aden! Madi! Everyone that my mother can help. Everyone who might be jeopardized if I decide that my hap—my feelings are more important than children's lives. It's no contest."

"Martyrdom isn't a good look on you, Clarke," Lexa said. "What you want matters too."

"It doesn't though," Clarke said. "Not now. Not yet. Maybe someday..."

Neither of them said anything for a long time, but neither of them hung up, either. They just sat in silence, and Clarke tried (and at the same tried not) to picture Lexa in a hospital bed, her only company the TV and the nurses who occasionally came in to check on her and maybe to make small talk for a few minutes before moving on to the next patient. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said finally. "Lexa. If things were different... if I was anyone other than my mother's daughter..."

A huff of breath gusted against the phone, and then, "Then you wouldn't be you." A pause, a sigh. "Good night, Clarke."

"Good night, Lexa."

The line went quiet, and then it went dead, and Clarke set down her phone. She saw another message from Octavia, cheerfully cursing her out for being the worst friend and roommate ever for getting her interest piqued about some mysterious new girl and then leaving her hanging.

**Clarke:** Do you believe in love at first sight?

She regretted the message as soon as it was sent, and she very nearly shut off her phone entirely to avoid whatever cheerfully mocking response Octavia was going to send her way. 

**Octavia:** I believe that you can be attracted to someone at first sight, and intrigued by them. That you can see someone once and want to know everything about them, but I think that's infatuation, not love.  
**Octavia:** Who IS this girl?

**Clarke:** One of my mom's patients.

Delete.

**Clarke:** I watched her die.

Delete.

**Clarke:** And be brought back.

Delete.

**Clarke:** I slept next to her in her hospital bed so she wouldn't be alone.  
**Clarke:** She didn't ask me to. I just did.  
**Clarke:** Like I could protect her or something.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

**Clarke:** I didn't want to leave.  
**Clarke:** She didn't want me to leave.  
**Clarke:** I want to go back.  
**Clarke:** I want to be with her.  
**Clarke:** It's all I want for Christmas.

Delete delete delete delete de-fucking- _lete_.

**Clarke:** It's so fucked up.

Send.

For the second time that night, her phone started buzzing. Predictably, it was Octavia. She considered ignoring it, keeping it to text where she could control what she said, where Octavia couldn't hear the catches in her breath and the thickness in her voice as she fought back yet another wave of tears. But she tapped the button to accept the call and put her phone to her ear. "Hey."

"Tell me what's going on," Octavia said. "All of it."

So Clarke told her. All of it. She started with the party and ended with Lexa hanging up on her. She glossed over the details of the night they spent together – Octavia didn't need to know _that_ \- but she knew that Octavia could read between the lines and hear what she wasn't saying.

"You've got it _bad_ ," Octavia said when she finished. "You never talked about Finn like you talk about her. Ever."

It said something that it took Clarke a second to even remember who she was talking about. Not that she had forgotten him, exactly, but, well, in the moment, she kind of had. It was as if in the few days since she'd met Lexa (was it really less than a week?) there had been some kind of seismic shift and a chasm had opened up, separating her life into two parts: Before and After. It had happened once before, when her father died, and now it was happening again. 

"Yeah, well," Clarke said finally. 

"What are you going to do?" Octavia asked. 

"Nothing," Clarke said. "There's nothing I _can_ do. She's my mother's patient, and I never should have crossed that line with her. I knew what I was doing was wrong even while I was doing it, but..."

"But...?"

"It didn't feel wrong. Nothing about it felt wrong."

"Orgasms rarely do," Octavia said.

Clarke snorted. "It's not just about that," she said. "The sex was good. Great. But it wasn't just the sex that made me feel like for the first time in a long time, I was actually... happy. I could actually imagine a future where I didn't walk around all the time feeling like there was a gaping hole in my chest that could never be filled. Not like anyone could ever replace my father, but that I could feel whole again anyway."

"You can't use other people to make yourself feel whole," Octavia said. "That's not healthy."

"I know," Clarke said. "That's not... not what I meant. Exactly. I don't know how to explain it. It was like... like she was... a bandage over the wound... a balm... she made me feel like I could finally heal, I guess. Losing my dad... there will always be a scar on my heart." She shrugged. "I don't know, Octavia. It doesn't matter. She's my mom's patient. I made a mistake. Now I live with that." Even though it felt like it tore the wound open further. 

"So you're just giving up on her."

"I'm making sure that she gets the care that she needs. That those kids do, too. This might be the last chance that they get, and I'm not going to have their lives – their deaths – on my conscience because I decided that I needed to get off one more time."

"You said it wasn't about the sex," Octavia reminded her. "Or you implied it. Not _just_ about the sex, anyway." A pause, and then, "If she wasn't your mother's patient, what would you do?"

"It doesn't matter," Clarke said. "She is. End of story."

"I think it does," Octavia said. "Because the Clarke Griffin I know doesn't let other people make the rules for her. She makes the rules herself. If she wasn't your mom's patient, what would you do?"

"I would be with her right now," Clarke said softly. "I would be with her, counting down the minutes until she was released from the hospital so that I could take her home... where I would try to convince her that we didn't need to leave her bed again until the end of winter break." Heat rushed to her cheeks as she said it, and if it was an exaggeration, it didn't mean that the sentiment behind it wasn't true. 

If Lexa wasn't her mother's patient, she would be spending every minute she could with her. She would ask her questions about herself and then get distracted by her lips and kiss her breathless before she finished answering. She would be living in the moment instead of worrying about the future that she had no control over. 

"How likely is it that any of these dire consequences of this possible conflict of interest are actually going to happen?" Octavia asked. "You're talking about research that is for the benefit of only a tiny group of people. Research that really can't go through all of the standard testing, as far as I understand it, because it's not like there are – what did you call them? Nightblood? – rats around to test on, or pigs or whatever they use. Anything they do pretty much has to be tested on the patients directly. And would they really give a placebo to a 10-year-old, knowing that if they don't give them the active drug or whatever it is, that kid is going to die? Would your mother really do that?"

"I don't know," Clarke said. "I know she wouldn't like it if she had to."

"You also said that these kids, most of them don't have families. So who is going to start up this hue and cry over Lexa getting preferential treatment because she's shagging the doc's daughter?" Octavia asked. "Do you legitimately think they're going to give a shit who got treated first and why, who is doing who, as long as the kids get saved?" 

Clarke tried to protest, but no words actually came to mind, no argument that Octavia wouldn't immediately shoot down. 

"I think your mother means well. I think under a lot of other circumstances, she would be right. But this... this is something else. This is..." Clarke could hear Octavia shifting around, maybe getting into a more comfortable position or maybe getting up to pace like she frequently did while on the phone. "You're falling in love, Clarke. Maybe you're already there. And I think you're an idiot for giving that up."

"My mom—"

"Will get over it. Go get your girl."

* * *

She didn't go that night. She needed time to really think it through, figure out if there _were_ potential consequences that Octavia wasn't considering, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that Octavia was probably right. Under normal circumstances, it would be a problem, but these circumstances were far from normal. If the treatment worked, or even had a chance of working, they were going to give it to the kids. They were dying anyway; it couldn't make their situation worse.

By morning, though, she'd made a decision, and steeled herself against whatever reaction her mother was going to have. She got up and showered and dressed in another one of her father's ridiculous Christmas sweaters, and got in her car and drove to the hospital.

She was worried that she would be barred from actually going into Lexa's room, that Lexa might have told the nurses that she didn't want to see her and to keep her away. No one tried to stop her, though, and the nurse coming out of Lexa's room just smiled at her and gestured for her to go on in.

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, "about last night."

Lexa looked up from the book she'd been reading, the one that Clarke had brought for her, and her eyes went wide, and then wary. "Don't be," she said. "You're doing what you think is right."

"You're right," Clarke said. "I am." She closed the distance between them and took Lexa's face between her hands, pulling her close and kissing her. 

Lexa stiffened, her hands coming up like she was going to push Clarke away, but they ended up fisted in the front of her sweater, pulling her in as she melted into it, and if she hadn't been hooked up to so many wires and machines, including one that was registering the spike in her heartrate, Clarke might have crawled on top of her to make the angle less awkward. After a very intense few seconds, Lexa broke the kiss, but looped one arm around Clarke's hips to drag her to sitting on the edge of the bed. "Your mother—"

"Thinks she's doing what's right, too," Clarke said. "I understand why she said what she said, why she thinks this is a bad idea. And maybe... maybe it still is. We still don't know each other very well, and we still don't know if the treatment is a cure. We go to different colleges – we must, because there's no way I would have not noticed you if we went to the same one – and we're both going to have to go back in a couple of weeks. There's plenty of reasons why this might not work. But there's an even better one why it might."

"Why's that?" Lexa asked.

"I'm happy when I'm with you," Clarke said. 

Lexa's smile was so brilliant, if Clarke had been the one on the heart monitor, she was sure it would have registered a blip as her heart skipped a beat and then thudded back into motion. "I'm happy when I'm with you, too," she said. "So I guess that's a pretty good place to start."

"Clarke?"

Clarke sighed and turned to look at her mom. Lexa's arm, still resting over her lap and holding her in place, tightened. "Hi Mom."

"I thought we'd agreed—"

"We didn't," Clarke said. "We didn't agree to anything. I want to be here. Lexa wants me here. End of story." 

Abby looked at Lexa. "You know that my continuing to be your doctor if you're involved with my daughter is... frowned upon. At best. Have you considered the possible—"

"I've considered them," Lexa said. "And if it's going to be a problem for you, then okay." Clarke looked at her sharply, but Lexa's focus was entirely on Abby. "I'd like for you to prepare my discharge paperwork, please. I'm going home."

"No," Abby said. "We're still monitoring your condition. We don't know—"

"The only changes have been improvements," Lexa said. "I feel fine. I'm going stir-crazy, and I want to leave. You can either discharge me or I will leave AMA. Either way I. Am going. Home."

"Clarke, would you excuse us for a moment?" Abby asked. 

Clarke looked at Lexa, not sure what she was supposed to do. They hadn't really talked about this, and part of her was worried that Lexa was being rash, saying that she was going to leave whether her mother liked it or not. Sure, she _seemed_ stable, and as healthy as she had been when Clarke met her (except for a few lingering cold symptoms), but what if she suddenly crashed and there wasn't time to get her back here? 

But the rest of her understood. Being trapped in a hospital room, barely able to leave your bed, wasn't the place you wanted to be when you were feeling fine, and when your doctor was trying to keep you away from someone that you wanted to be with. 

Not that that was why she was doing it... except it kind of seemed like that was exactly why she was doing it. 

"I'll keep an eye on her," Clarke said. "Mom. I swear. If anything changes, if there's even a hint that something is starting to go wrong again, we'll come right back. I won't let anything happen to her."

"Clarke..."

"Mom."

They squared off, Abby looking down at her where she was still sitting on the edge of Lexa's bed, Lexa's arm still draped over her hips, but she didn't have the upper hand. Maybe she knew already that this wasn't a battle that could be won. 

Abby finally sighed. "I'll go get the paperwork ready," she said. "But if you start to feel even the faintest hint that—"

"I know," Lexa said. "I won't hesitate this time. I'll call the ambulance and have them bring me back."

"Good. Thank you." She turned and left, and Clarke could see from her posture that she was not pleased about it. 

"There," Lexa said, her lips curving up into a smile. "Problem solved."

"You were telling the truth, weren't you?" Clarke asked. "You really are feeling fine?"

"I feel amazing," Lexa said. "As much as I l—want to spend time with you, if I still felt like my body was fighting something off and potentially going to turn against itself, I wouldn't leave. But I don't. So I'd rather be in my own space, with my own food, in my own clothes..." She raised an eyebrow, and Clarke pressed her lips together as they shared the same thought: _Or out of them..._

"Speaking of, I brought you pajamas but I didn't bring you anything to wear when you got out. Do you want me to go get you something?"

"I'll just go home in pajamas," Lexa said. "I don't care, as long as my butt isn't hanging out."

"Okay," Clarke said. 

A nurse came in and started to unhook Lexa from the various machines and wire. She finally took Lexa's arm and unstuck the tape over her IV and withdrew the needle slowly, then wiped away the bead of blood that formed. She set it aside while she grabbed a prep pad to clean the area before placing a bandage, and Clarke saw Lexa's eyes widen.

"Call Dr. Griffin," she said. "Now."

The nurse looked at her, then took off at a run – or at least a very brisk walk – even though she didn't seem to understand any more than Clarke did what Lexa was so worked up about. Before Clarke could ask, her mother was back in the room. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Look," Lexa said, pointing to the square of gauze, a smear of red soaked into it.

A smear of _red_. 

"That's..." Abby looked at Lexa's arm, where more blood had welled up, and it was definitely dark, but it was equally definitely red. Not black. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know," Lexa said. "But I'm not imagining it?"

"No," Abby said. "You're not." She smiled at Lexa. "Still in a hurry to get home?" she asked.

"Yes," Lexa said, "but I'm willing to stick around long enough for you to draw some blood and do a few tests." She looked at Clarke. "Maybe you can get me some clothes after all?"

"Sure," Clarke said. She found Lexa's keys and tucked them in her pocket, then impulsively leaned down and kissed her square on the mouth. "I won't be gone long," she said. 

"When you get back, you can take me home," Lexa said, and then whispered into her ear, "We can celebrate."

The brush of Lexa's breath on her skin, along with the implication of the words, was enough to send a shiver down Clarke's spine and melt her core, heat pulsing between her legs. She kissed her again for good measure, then went to go find her something to come home in. She might or might not have chosen the outfit based on what she wanted to peel her out of as soon as they stepped back through the door.

* * *

The wait at the hospital when she got back, and then the car ride home, felt interminably long, even though when all was said and done, it wasn't much more than an hour. The ticking minutes hadn't done anything to cool Clarke's ardor. If anything, it had only ramped it up, and by the time the door to Lexa's apartment was closed and locked behind them, she felt as if every nerve ending had had its volume turned up to eleven. 

She pushed Lexa back against the door, hooking her fingers in the belt loops of her skintight jeans, and kissed her hard, lips crashing and crushing against teeth, the sensation just this side of painful. Lexa's lips parted beneath hers and their tongues clashed in their eagerness to get to each other, to plunge into each other in the only way available to them while all their clothes were still on. 

Clarke finally had to pull away to gulp in air, so she brought her mouth to the column of Lexa's throat instead, her teeth grazing the skin as she sucked a mark just above her collarbone. She could feel Lexa's pulse thudding beneath her lips and she grinned. "Uh-oh," she said, "your heartrate is up. Should we call my mother?"

Lexa made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl and pushed away from the door hips first, forcing Clarke back, and then turned and pinned her against the wall with her body. She lifted the hem of her sweater and traced her fingers along the waistband of her leggings, following the gentle swell of Clarke's belly down, down... She shoved her hand into Clarke's panties, the tip of one finger finding her clit, working over it in a way that made Clarke's breath catch and her back arch, pushing her up on her tiptoes... which gave Lexa the angle she needed to slide her hand all the way between her legs, two long, deft fingers sinking into the hot, slick core of her as the heel of her palm kept pressure right where she wanted and needed it. 

Clarke didn't know what she would call what they'd done before, but this... there was no other word for this than _fucking_. Lexa was fucking her against the wall, using the weight of her body to keep Clarke exactly where she wanted her, working her fingers inside of her with calculated thrusts, rutting against Clarke's thigh so that the movements of her own hips against the back of her hand, and the way that Clarke ground into the touch, sent her over the edge in what seemed like only seconds, leaving her flush-cheeked in its wake, but Lexa didn't let up until a second, even stronger climax followed, and Clarke cried out, "Fuck, Lexa, god, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" and clung to her as her knees turned to jelly beneath her. 

Lexa slid her hand out of her pants and brought her fingers to her lips, sucking the salty musk of Clarke's arousal from them, still leaned against her so that she didn't collapse to the floor. 

"Good thing we didn't call your mother," she breathed. "We wouldn't have wanted her to hear _that_..."

"You're _evil_ ," Clarke said with a hoarse laugh. 

"Does that mean you don't want me to do it again?" Lexa asked.

"No," Clarke said. "I mean yes. I mean..." She didn't know what she meant. She had forgotten the question. "Lexa..."

Everything about her softened, and she slid her arms around Clarke and backed away from the wall, which forced her to stand on her own feet but Lexa was holding her, nuzzling against her jaw and cheek until their lips met in a slow, deep kiss. Clarke felt something wet on her cheek and pulled back, surprised – or maybe not – to find that Lexa was crying. 

"I'm glad you're here," Clarke whispered. "I'm so glad you're still here."

"I wouldn't be if it wasn't for you," Lexa said. "I owe you my life. Literally."

"You don't owe me anything," Clarke said. "If that's—"

Lexa kissed her again to stop the words from even finding their way out of her mouth. "It's not," she said. "I would want this even if I'd never gotten sick. Want you. You're..." She shook her head slightly. "You're amazing. And beautiful, and smart, and strong, and... and everything I hoped I would find someday, even knowing that I would probably run out of time before I did."

Clarke crushed her mouth against Lexa's, not wanting to hear anything more about the possibility – or probability – of her death. That wasn't going to happen now. Her blood was red. It was normal. She was _fine_... "Bedroom," she mumbled. "Now."

Lexa obeyed, her fingers tangled through Clarke's as she guided her backward down the hall. Clarke had made the bed while she was there, changed the sheets and everything. She wasn't even really sure why, except maybe that last time Lexa had been in that bed she'd been sick, and Clarke wasn't make sure that any lingering germs were destroyed in the washer and dryer. 

She saw Lexa register the fact that the covers had been smoothed over the bed, the pillows arranged against the headboard, and she felt her pull back just slightly, their lips parting with a wet sound, leaning her forehead against Clarke's temple. "I should shower," she said. 

"Why?" Clarke asked. 

"Because I feel like there is a layer of hospital coating my skin, and I want to get rid of it before climbing into bed with you," she said. "I don't want that to be part of this, to be part of us, any more than it already has been."

"Okay," Clarke said, tipping her head so that her lips brushed Lexa's jaw. "Can I help?"

The fact that her eyes smiled before her lips did was one of the things that Clarke was coming to lo—like most about her. She knew the answer before Lexa dipped her chin in a nod, and she was already pressing against her, backing her through the door again and across the hall to the bathroom. 

She let Lexa turn on the water to the temperature she wanted it, reaching around her from behind and grasping the pull of her hoodie's zipper, sliding it down slowly and then peeling it back from her shoulders, kissing a trail from behind her ear, down her neck, and across her shoulder. She felt Lexa's shoulder blades move as she sucked in a breath, and Clarke nipped at her fair skin before stepping back enough to remove the hoodie from between their bodies and let it drop. Lexa turned, and her nipples poked out against the tight cami that she'd been wearing underneath. Clarke brought her hands up to cup Lexa's breasts, teasing the straining points with her thumbs before sliding her hands down to the shirt's hem and lifting it up and away. 

Lexa stepped on the toes of her socks, lifting one foot, then the other, to peel them from her feet. Clarke popped the button of her jeans and tugged down the zipper, hooking her thumbs under the waistband and working them down her hips. She was kneeling in front of Lexa, who steadied herself as she stepped out of the pile of denim, and the temptation was too great. She pressed her mouth against the crotch of her panties, tonguing her through the damp material, and felt Lexa shudder. "Clarke..." she said, her voice rough with lust but also carrying a hint of a warning. 

"I couldn't resist," Clarke said, letting her hot breath tease her just a little bit more before she drew the last bit of clothing that Lexa was wearing down her legs and away. She wanted to press her face into the nest of dark curls between her legs, wanted to run her tongue through the slick heated folds, but Lexa wanted to shower first, and she had to respect that. She stood up and quickly shucked herself out of her own clothing, stepping into the shower after Lexa and stealing a kiss... or half a dozen kisses, of the kind that left a person shaking and breathless, before either of them reached for the soap. 

By the time Clarke finished her ministrations, making sure that every inch of Lexa had been cleansed of any possible hospital residue, she could feel the heat between her legs, and she turned Lexa around, planting her hands firmly against the shower wall, and then positioned herself behind her, her breasts pressed into her back as she slid her hand down her belly and through the tangled curls, swiping lightly over her clit as she made her way down and in. From this angle she couldn't thrust very deep, but from the sounds Lexa was making, she didn't need to. It was hard to sustain, though, as Lexa's hips rocked and bucked, so she slid back up to the pearl of flesh that seemed almost to pulse under her fingertips, and began to circle, slow and gentle at first, and then faster, harder, until Lexa was keening with each stroke. Clarke pulled back, just barely touching her as she stopped breathing for a second before letting out a deep, guttural moan and collapsing forward against the wall.

"Your breathing is a little labored," Clarke said, kissing the back of her shoulder, then darting out to tongue to lick away drops of water from her skin. "Are you sure we shouldn't call my mom?"

Lexa laughed, a soft exhalation, and turned around, pressing her back to the wall to keep herself propped up as she drew Clarke against her. "Has anyone ever told you that you're funny?" she asked. "Because they lied." 

Clarke grinned, nuzzling her throat as their skin slid against each other, rekindling the heat in her core. She wondered if they would ever get their fill of each other, if there would ever be a point where they'd had enough. If there was, she didn't think it would be any time soon. 

"I don't think kissing it is making it better," Clarke quipped as Lexa's breath caught again. 

Lexa groaned and caught her chin, dragging her back up to her mouth, parting her lips with her tongue and claiming her like a pirate taking possession of her plunder. "I feel," she mumbled, "much better... actually..."

"I feel like we're running out of hot water," Clarke finally had to admit, breaking the trance that Lexa's lips on hers, the stroke of her fingers and press of her skin, had lulled her into. She only realized when she stopped that she'd been rocking her hips in a steady rhythm against Lexa's thigh, pleasure building so slowly she'd barely noticed until it was cut off in an abrupt plateau by her pulling back. 

"Hmmph," Lexa grumbled, reaching past her to turn it up, but it was all the way up. They'd been in there so long their skin was starting to prune, and finally Lexa turned off the tap and they stepped out into the chill of the bathroom. 

Lexa wrapped her in a fluffy towel, then grabbed one for herself, and they dried off as quickly and thoroughly as they could before climbing into Lexa's bed, immediately twining back together as soon as they were between the crisp, clean sheets. Lexa's leg slid between Clarke's thighs again, her hand on the swell of Clarke's hip and the slow thrust and retreat of her tongue in Clarke's mouth, drew her back into that mindless rhythm, the warm feeling that had started to ebb in the brief interlude between shower and bed rising again, growing layer by layer like breakers piling up, until with a final heavy pulse it peaked, flooding her with warmth out to the tips of her fingers and toes, leaving her trembling all over in the aftermath. 

She'd never felt anything like it. Never had an orgasm that she hadn't been trying for, but she'd been so wrapped up in kissing Lexa, in holding her and touching her, in memorizing all the little sounds she made when she was touched here or there, this way or that... 

Lexa's arms curled around her, holding her close as she panted against her neck, tears beading in the corners of her eyes and spilling. "Shh, love," she whispered. "You're safe." 

Clarke didn't register the word right away, and when she did, the cynical side of her wanted to dismiss it. But the part that was clinging to Lexa like a life raft in shark-infested waters told her to hold on to it, to keep it tucked away safe deep inside of her, not just the word but the _feeling_ , because if she couldn't trust the word entirely, if it felt accidental or premature... the feeling didn't. And they were one and the same.

When she'd finally recovered enough to move, she began to kiss Lexa again, slow and deep, lazy meandering kisses that strayed from her mouth to her cheekbones, her jaw, her ears and down her neck, taking her time, guided by Lexa's sighs and moans and occasionally by the shifting of her body as it urged her toward or away from certain places. They both knew where this was eventually headed, but Clarke wasn't in a hurry, nor did Lexa appear to be. So she let them both enjoy the journey, and when she finally reached her destination, Lexa was already shuddering through the beginnings of her climax, and Clarke barely had to touch her to send her over the edge. The one that followed didn't feel like it took any effort at all, either. 

Clarke crawled back up and into her arms, and they didn't say anything – they didn't need to – as they settled against each other and dropped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AMA = Against Medical Advice
> 
> Also, for those who haven't seen it yet, I have a questionnaire for my readers about stories that they would like to see me continue, or new stories they would like to see. You an [take it here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdCihjBUqNFFir4ExQbHzZwKp4QDT260aTRUXBSFNI5gh3HHQ/viewform?usp=sf_link). If you have already taken it, I did add a question about things you would like to see specifically within the Where There Is A Flame-verse, so if you want to you can take it again, feel free.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke traced her fingers along Lexa's spine, then slid her arm around her from behind, pressing her palm against her chest and her ear against her back, soothed by the thud of her heart and the hiss of her breath, in and out, slow and steady.

Lexa shifted slightly, but she didn't have much room to move with Clarke wrapped so tightly around her. She felt Lexa's fingers thread through hers, pulling her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sounding strange as Clarke could hear it not only in the air but resonating through her body. 

"Taking your vitals," Clarke said. 

"Am I?" Lexa asked. She let go of Clarke's hand and squirmed around until she was facing her, arranging the blankets carefully over them so they didn't catch a chill, instead staying cocooned together, basking in each other's warmth. Her lips brushed against Clarke's in the lightest of kisses. "Vital?"

"As oxygen," Clarke breathed, chasing her mouth to claim it more fully, a startled laugh escaping when Lexa rolled onto her back and pulled Clarke on top of her...

By the time they got up to get food, it was more brunch than breakfast, but Clarke didn't care. She was happy. She couldn't remember the last time that she was this happy. Other than a few lingering sniffles and the occasional cough, they were both on the mend from their colds, and the guilt of having gotten Lexa sick had been pushed to the back of her mind. 

"What do you want to do today?" Clarke asked, pushing the last bite of her waffle (the kind you made in the toaster, although Lexa had maybe-not-so-idly mentioned that she might think about getting a waffle iron when she came back for the summer if she wouldn't just be cooking for herself...) through a puddle of syrup.

"I actually still need to get gifts for the kids," Lexa said. "I meant to do it earlier, but then there were finals and packing to come home and time just got away from me." She smiled sheepishly. "I wouldn't ask you to come along for that, though."

"You're not asking," Clarke said. "I'm volunteering. Let's go."

They rinsed their dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then got dressed (Clarke had to borrow a few things but wrapping herself in garments that smelled like Lexa – or at least Lexa's detergent – was pretty much the opposite of a problem) and headed to an area downtown that was packed with stores, but not as claustrophobic as the mall was likely to be. 

"Toy store first," Lexa said. "I'll probably be able to do most of it there."

"Do you get something for all of them?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa nodded. "I grew up with them. They're basically all my younger brothers and sisters. How could I get gifts for some of them and not others?"

"Even Ontari?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Even Ontari," she said, "although she doesn't live with us. She was adopted young by a wealthy woman who I think I've met once in all the years I've known Ontari, and it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience." She shrugged. "I should have made sure to have hers before the ice skating party. She probably won't show up for Christmas with the rest of us. She says it's depressing, hanging out in the waiting room of the morgue on Christmas."

"Seriously?" Clarke asked. "She said that?"

Lexa looked at her out of the corner of her eye as she pulled open the door of the toy store. "Do you really doubt it?"

"I guess not," Clarke admitted. Never mind the fact that none of the kids at the Nightblood orphanage, for lack of a better term, seemed likely to die any time soon. She knew that any of them could at pretty much any time if they got sick, but they were so young and bright and alive it was hard to really wrap her mind around. Ontari was the only one who seemed determined to be morbid. Maybe it was just because she was older, and therefore more likely to be living on borrowed time.

"Aden likes LEGOs," Lexa said. "See if you can go find something you think he might like?" 

"On it," Clarke said, glad for the distraction. 

They were in the store for nearly an hour, and by the time they walked out, their arms were so full and the bags so heavy they had to go immediately back to Lexa's car to drop things off. Clarke didn't ask where Lexa got the money for all of it; she wasn't even close to poor herself and she'd cringed at the total. 

"Next stop, art store," Lexa said. "Madi loves to draw and paint, and she would have been happy with one of the art kits at the toy store, but I want to get her something nicer." 

Clarke felt like gravity had been reduced as she bounced along beside her. "You thought I was good at picking out LEGOs?" she asked. "You ain't seen nothing yet." In the end, Lexa just gave her a budget and let her go wild, and they came out with a bulging bag and a table easel tucked under Lexa's arm. 

"Back to the car again?" Clarke asked. 

"Sounds like a plan," Lexa said. She looked down at her phone and the list of people she needed to buy gifts for. "I think that's everyone done except Ontari."

Clarke hefted the back of paints and brushes and canvas into the trunk of the car. When she looked up, she saw a flash of pale skin and dark hair across the street. When the girl turned, Clarke got a better look at her face. "Speak of the devil..." she said. 

Lexa looked up from wedging the easel into the back seat, following Clarke's gaze. "What is she _doing_?"

Ontari had a group of other teenagers around her, staring fixedly down at her hand. Clarke saw a flash of something, and then everyone recoiled, and then leaned in for a closer look, and then pulled back again, their expressions horrified, fascinated, or some mixture of the two. 

Lexa was already halfway across the street before Clarke realized she was moving, and she quickly checked to make sure all of the car doors were locked before following her. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lexa demanded, grabbing Ontari's hand, which Clarke now saw was bleeding. 

Ontari yanked it away. Droplets black as ink spattered on the pavement, and her friends (were they her friends?) all started to back away. She looked ready to go off on Lexa, but then something shifted in her expression, a gleam in her eyes that Clarke didn't like, and before either of them realized what was happening, Ontari had grabbed Lexa's hand and jabbed some kind of lancet into the heel. "Look," she said. "I'm not the only—" 

She stopped, stared, as a bead of Lexa's blood welled up and then burst, streaking red over her skin. "What the _fuck_?" she asked. 

"Let's get you cleaned up," Lexa said. "You're bleeding."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Ontari said. "I'm aware of that."

"You're also just asking to get an infection," Lexa pointed out. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a packet of tissues, handing one to Ontari and taking another to wipe off her own hand, applying pressure to the tiny wound. 

"Whatever," Ontari said. "Who cares? I'm gonna die anyway." 

Lexa hesitated, looking over at Clarke, who bit her lip. She didn't know what to do any more than Lexa did. Clearly Ontari knew now that something was up, that something had changed, but how much could they tell her? Did she have the right to know? They knew that the treatment Clarke's mom had developed had worked... once. On Lexa. They didn't know if it would work again on anyone else, and they didn't know _how_ it worked, or _why_ it worked. Was it better to give Ontari the little information that they had, or to keep quiet?

"Let me at least get you a Band-Aid," Lexa said. "I have some in my car."

"I don't need a goddamn Band-Aid," Ontari growled. "I need to know how the fuck it is that you're not a Nightblood anymore." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you never were. Unless you were just, I dunno, _getting off_ on being the poster child for the doomed or something, and somehow convinced them that you were one of us when—"

"I _am_ one of you," Lexa said. "Or I was. We don't..." She sighed. "Not here," she said. "We're not doing this in the middle of a sidewalk while everyone shops for Christmas presents. Please."

Ontari glared at her for a long, tense moment before finally giving a quick, sharp nod, and following her across the street to her car. Lexa retrieved a First Aid kit from her glove compartment (because of course she had a First Aid kit in her glove compartment) and Clarke took it from her. "You take care of you," she said. "I'll take care of her." She looked at Ontari, trying to convey without saying anything just how unimpressed she was by her turning both of them into some kind of sideshow act. She wiped the sticky black streaks from Ontari's hand with an alcohol prep pad before plastering a Band-Aid over the pinprick wound she'd inflicted on her herself. "There," she said. 

"Like mother, like daughter," Ontari said, her voice sweet as aspartame and just as fake. 

"Let's go somewhere," Lexa said, tossing the bloody tissue and the bandage wrapper in a trash can. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Ontari said. "Not until you—"

"We're going somewhere so that I _can_ ," Lexa snapped. "Do you understand? I will tell you, but you're going to have to take down the attitude a couple dozen notches first." 

"You're not my mother," Ontari grumbled. After a few seconds of stalemate, though, her shoulders slumped slightly. "Fine. I'm hungry anyway."

"Wherever you want," Lexa said, tone somewhere between sarcastic and resigned. "Lead the way."

Ontari looked around, then headed for a pastry shop, ordering herself coffee and giant chocolate-filled éclair. Lexa got tea, and Clarke got coffee and a scone for them to split, if either of them had any appetite. They found a table in the corner, and for a minute or two Ontari was completely absorbed in her food. It was only after she'd wolfed down several bites (and smeared chocolate on one cheek) that she even looked at them again. "Well?"

Lexa wrapped her fingers around her mug, looking down into its depths before looking at Ontari again. "I got sick," she said. "It started as a cold, but then, well... you know what happens. Luckily Clarke came to check on me." Ontari's eyes slid over to Clarke for a second before going back to Lexa. "If she hadn't, I'm not sure what would have happened."

"You would have called 911 yourself," Clarke said. 

Lexa gave her a tight smile, reaching out to squeeze her arm gently. Ontari rolled her eyes and gagged. Clarke wondered if she had ever been that obnoxious when she was that age. She hoped not, but her mother could probably think of at least one or two examples of times where she wasn't any better. "I ended up in the hospital, and things were looking pretty grim. Then..." She looked down, and her fingers tightened on Clarke's arm. 

"She died," Clarke said, making sure that Ontari was looking right at her when she said it. "Cardiac arrest. They brought her back, and my mom gave her an experimental medication that she's been working on, and somehow it turned things around. Within a few hours, she was improving, and within a day, she was basically healthy again."

"And my blood was red," Lexa said. "Somehow, whatever it did... it turned my blood red."

"So you're cured?" Ontari asked. 

"We don't know," Lexa admitted. "Dr. Griffin still needs to run more tests, and she'll continue to do so over a period of time to get an idea of what the long-term effects are. But... she's hopeful." The last words were said softly, and Lexa wasn't looking at Ontari anymore. 

"So when is she going to give it to the rest of us?" Ontari asked. 

Lexa looked back at her. "They need to study it further," she said. "Right now you're healthy, and hopefully you'll stay that way while they use me as their case study."

Ontari's eyes narrowed. "Of course. Of fucking course." She stood up. "Fuck you," she snarled. "You'd better believe you're not going to fucking get away with this." She grabbed the rest of her éclair and coffee and stormed out, the bells on the door jangling wildly in her wake. 

Clarke pushed up from her chair, but Lexa grabbed her wrist and shook her head. "Let her go," she said. "She's just blowing off steam."

"No, she's not," Clarke said. "If she tells anyone..." She yanked her hand from Lexa's grasp and shook her head right back at her. "When I told my friend about you, about how I let me mother talk me out of being with you, because it was a conflict of interest and what happened if someone found out? What happened if my mom got taken off the project? one of the things that she said that convinced me that none of that mattered was, 'Who's going to tell?' Well now we know who! If we don't stop her—"

Something flashed in Lexa's eyes. "If we don't stop her what?" she demanded. "Who do you think she's going to tell, and what do you think is going to come of it?"

"Her parents?" Clarke challenged. "You said she doesn't live with you, or with the other kids. That she was adopted. If she tells them and they decide to report my mother for any number of violations that she's committed at this point—"

"Would you rather she hadn't?" Lexa asked. 

Clarke slammed her hand down on the table, drawing attention from people around them. She was causing a scene, but the longer they stayed here, the greater the opportunity Ontari had to do whatever her spiteful mind had decided was necessary to punish Lexa for the sin of living. "That's not what I'm saying and you know it," she snarled. 

"Then what _are_ you saying?" Lexa asked. "What do you think is going to happen?" 

Clarke ground her teeth. "I already told you," she said. 

"Not really," Lexa said. "You're afraid that she's going to get your mother taken off the project?" Clarke jerked her chin sharply in a nod. "Why? Why would she do that? What purpose would that serve?" She cocked her head, looking up at Clarke. "If this _is_ a cure, and your mother is the one who knows what went into it, it would be very, very foolish for Ontari to get her taken off the project. It wouldn't punish me; I've already had it. It would punish her, though, because if no more gets made, she doesn't get saved."

"Maybe she doesn't want to," Clarke pointed out. "She seems pretty chill about the possibility of her own death."

"Gallows humor," Lexa said, "or something like it. It's a front that she puts up to hide the fact that she is a scared little girl who wakes up every morning not knowing if today is going to be her last."

"Maybe," Clarke said. "But she hates you. Even more now than before. And if she's willing to physically attack you at a party – even with plausible deniability – just because you're still alive and for some reason that pisses her off, what makes you think she won't try to hit you where it counts now, when you might get to live as long as everyone else?"

"Again, anything that she does to try to sabotage your mother's work at this point will only hurt her and—"

Lexa stopped dead, her face suddenly pale. She looked at Clarke, who looked back at her, realizing a split-second later what Lexa was thinking. The kids. If Ontari managed to stop her mother from making more of the treatment that had saved Lexa, it would mean she didn't get saved, but it would also mean that the kids didn't either. That Lexa would live, and she would have to watch the kids that she loved more than anything, more than her own life, Clarke was sure, get sick and die, as helpless to stop it as she had been when it was her own body threatening to destroy her. 

"She wouldn't," Lexa said, shaking her head. "She's angry, yes, and scared, but she's not... she's not a monster. She's not a murderer."

"Are you willing to stake Aden and Madi's lives on that?" Clarke asked. She hated herself for saying it, but it needed to be said. 

Lexa finally got up, stumbling as if her legs had gone suddenly numb, bumping into things and nearly bowling a man over on her way to the door. She pushed through it, Clarke half a step behind, but it was too late. Ontari was gone.

* * *

Clarke laid in bed next to Lexa, her fingers following the curve of her spine, but there was none of the wonder she'd felt that morning, which now seemed much longer than a few hours ago. Lexa had dragged her into the bedroom when they got home, yanking off her clothes until they were in a heap on the floor, then reaching to do the same to Clarke, tangling their bodies together, her hands rough and clumsy, but Clarke didn't try to stop her. She understood, as well as she could, why Lexa was so desperate to touch her, to be touched, to feel anything other than the bone-chilling terror of what Ontari could do, if it turned out that she was a monster after all.

"We should tell my mom," Clarke said, pressing her lips to the back of Lexa's neck as she wrapped her arms around her and drew her close, her breasts pressing into the sharp ridges of Lexa's shoulder blades. "Warn her."

"We don't know that she'll do anything," Lexa said. "I have to believe..." 

But what she had to believe she didn't say, so maybe she couldn't actually make herself believe it. 

"Can you call her?" Clarke asked. "Try to talk to her?"

"I don't have her number," Lexa said. "I used to, but she changed it. Or blocked me." She laced her fingers through Clarke's, squeezing hard enough that the pressure of bone on bone made them ache. "Even if I did, what would I say?"

"That she's next," Clarke said. "That as soon as we know that it works, she'll be next to get it."

"What if she isn't?" Lexa asked. "We can't make her a promise that we can't keep."

"Then... we'll just tell her that as soon as it's been tested, as soon as we know it works, that she will definitely get it. That she'll get the same chance that you got. They all will," Clarke said without knowing if it was really true. Even if it was, there was no way to know how long it would take. The effect that it had had on Lexa had been almost instant, but Clarke didn't know the science behind it, and she wasn't sure that her mother did either, yet. Lexa had at least been old enough to sign for the treatment, to make her own medical decisions. Ontari was still a child, at least legally, which meant that in order for her to be used as another test case, her parents would have to sign off on it. 

"Maybe she won't do anything," Lexa said, sounding like she was trying – and failing – to convince herself.

"Maybe," Clarke agreed, not believing it either.

But there was nothing they could do but wait.

* * *

Clarke barely saw her mother over the next few days, even when she went home to get more clothing to bring to Lexa's. She texted her occasionally, just to check in, but it was sometimes hours before she got a reply. Her mother was putting in long hours at the lab, studying samples of Lexa's blood from before the treatment and after, trying to figure out what had changed, and why, and how to replicate it, and how to make sure that it stuck. 

They still hadn't told her about what had happened with Ontari. They'd decided that maybe it was better not to distract her with something that might end up being nothing. They tried to act as if everything was okay, and sometimes, early in the morning or late at night, when they were just waking up or were half asleep, buzzing on endorphins, everything was. 

But more nights than not, Lexa had nightmares, and Clarke held her, murmuring into her hair that it was just a dream, she was all right... She stroked her hair and rubbed her back until her trembling stopped, and kissed her back to sleep. 

During the day, Clarke found herself gritting her teeth and wincing every time she encountered anything holiday-related, which was pretty much constantly. Any hope that she'd had that this year would be different, better than the last two, quickly ebbed. Lexa did her best to keep her from spiraling too far, and most of the time she was able to catch her and buoy her back up enough that she didn't drown, but they were both getting tired of treading water.

They woke up one morning, gummy-eyed and exhausted, to Lexa's phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. She picked it up, squinting at the bright display, and made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a half. "Madi," she said, and slid her finger across the screen to answer it. 

"Hey you," she said, slouching back down under the covers. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Who _cares_ what time it is?" Madi asked. With Lexa's head pillowed on her shoulder, Clarke could make out what she was saying with little difficulty. "Do you know what _day_ it is?"

Clarke picked up her own phone, but the display didn't show the date, only the time. 8:02 am. They'd been in bed for over nine hours, and she didn't feel like she'd slept at all. The truth was, she really wasn't sure what day it was; they'd all blurred into one long holiday hellscape, occasionally punctuated with bright moments when they'd found something to smile or laugh about, peaks of pleasure and lulls of glowing contentment after... 

"It's Christmas _Eve_ ," Madi said, solving the mystery. "Are you coming? You said you'd come!"

"I said, 'We'll see,'" Lexa corrected. 

"Well we _won't_ see if you don't come," Madi said. "We can't _see_ each other if you're not here."

"She has a point," Clarke teased softly. 

Lexa snorted. "That's not a point," she said. "That's a trap."

"Who are you talking to?" Madi demanded to know. "Who's there?" Then, her voice sly, she asked, "Is it Clarke?"

Lexa's eyes went wide and Clarke clamped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh at her expression. "I'll talk to you later," Lexa finally managed, her voice strangled. 

"I knew it!" Madi said. "I knew it I knew it I knew it!" Clarke could imagine her doing a victory dance around the Christmas tree. "I will let you go," she said, "but I better see you later." 

"We'll—" Lexa started, but Madi was having none of it.

" _Both_ of you." She hung up.

Lexa let her phone drop and buried her face in Clarke's chest. "I guess we'd better get the presents wrapped..."

"We're never going to hear the end of it, are we?" Clarke asked. 

"Not if we all live to be a hundred," Lexa said. 

And reality came crashing in again.

* * *

They packed the now-wrapped gifts back into the shopping bags and set them next to the door. "Should I put on something nicer?" Clarke asked, looking down a bit self-consciously at her skinny jeans that were worn but not quite ripped at the knees and the stretched-out, paint-spattered hoodie that she wore, because they were comfortable and she hadn't actually planned to be going out much (or possibly even wearing clothing much) when she'd grabbed things from home. 

Lexa looked her up and down and bit her lip, and Clarke felt it in her gut and lower. She scowled back at her, and Lexa laughed. "Do you have any more of those sweaters?" she asked.

Clarke grinned. "You have no idea," she replied... but saying it gave _her_ and idea. "Come with me," she blurted. "Come to my house. Put on whatever you're going to wear and then we'll stop at my house and you can help me pick something out."

Lexa blinked. It was the first time Clarke had ever invited her to her house. It wasn't that Clarke was trying to hide anything from her, it just felt like it would be awkward, if her mother was home, or came home while they were, well... 

"Please?" Clarke asked. Now that she'd said it, she wasn't going to take no for an answer. She wanted to bring Lexa into her life, her space, like she'd been brought into Lexa's. And maybe facing her father's collection of Christmas sweaters on Christmas Eve would be easier with someone at her side. 

No, not someone. Lexa. She was more than just someone, more than Clarke ever thought she would let anyone be. 

"Okay," Lexa said. "Let me get dressed." 

"I'll stay here," Clarke said. 

The corner of Lexa's eyes crinkled even as she fought back a smile. "Probably for the best if we're actually going to make it out the door," she said. She turned and went to her room, coming back ten minutes later in an outfit that was a little dressier than her daily fare, or at least what Clarke had seen of it, but not really what Clarke would consider dressed up. But then she was just going home, wasn't she? The people there had seen her fresh out of bed, tangled hair and gritty eyes, in whatever she'd thrown on for pajamas. Probably. Clarke couldn't imagine that she would have made sure to get dressed before leaving her room every morning for her entire life. 

"Your car or mine?" Lexa asked. 

"Yours," Clarke said. "You know the way better than I do."

"To your house?" Lexa asked, arching an eyebrow.

"To _yours_ , smartass," Clarke said, taking any possible sting out of it by pulling her into a quick kiss. "Although you do have a point..."

"Just tell me how to get there," Lexa said, loading the bags into the back seat. 

Clarke climbed into the passenger's seat, easily navigating Lexa to her house. Her stomach was in knots by the time they arrived, and she was relieved when her mother's car wasn't in the driveway. (They had a garage, but rarely used it. It had been her father's space for whatever his current pet project was, and even though they'd eventually cleaned it out, parking in the driveway was just habit.) She let them in. "Did you want a tour?" she asked.

"I wish that I could give you the same answer that you gave me when I brought you to my place," Lexa said. "But again, we're on a schedule."

Clarke smirked. " _Technically_ we never promised we would come," she said, "and even if we had, we didn't set a specific time..."

"We're lucky we've made it this long without Madi blowing up my phone, wanting to know where I – _we_ are," Lexa said. "So as much as I would like to see your bed, and you naked in it... we should probably skip to the festive regalia portion of the tour."

"Festive regalia?" Clarke snorted. "Come on." She took Lexa to the guest room, where they'd stored the things that had belonged to her father that they couldn't bear to part with, but that her mother didn't want to have to see on a day-to-day basis, either. She pulled a box out of the closet and flipped open the flaps, lifting the sweaters out one by one and holding them up for Lexa to see.

" _Not_ that one," Lexa said when Clarke displayed a mock-Fair Isle sweater that prominently featured three reindeer in a rather compromising position. "He actually—"

"No," Clarke said. "That was a gag gift from one of his friends at work. I'm pretty sure he wore it that day at the party, and never again." She set it down. "What about this one?" she asked, holding up one of a Christmas tree, complete with shaggy glittery yarn for tinsel. "Wait for it..." She pushed a button in the cuff of one sleeve, and the lights on the tree started twinkling.

"Oh. My. God." Lexa stared in horror, and then started laughing. Clarke joined in, and soon they were leaning against each other, trying and failing to catch their breath in between peals of laughter. Clarke wasn't sure when the gasps turned to sobs... she only realized it when Lexa went quiet, then pulled back and took Clarke's face between her hands. "Oh love," she whispered, and pulled her in, holding her tight and rubbing her back until the wave of grief had ebbed. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke mumbled, reaching for a tissue to blot her eyes and blow her nose. "God, I must look awful now."

"You're beautiful," Lexa said. 

"You're biased," Clarke countered, but it made the ache in her chest ease, just a little. 

"I think we found the one," Lexa said, picking up the sweater from where it had fallen, still blinking merrily. She found the button to turn it off and handed it to Clarke. "I'll give you a minute to get changed."

Clarke nodded, going to her room for a nicer pair of jeans, and then shut herself in the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, hoping that it would help with the puffy redness the tears had left in their wake.

She looked at herself in the mirror and decided that maybe a little makeup was in order. She dabbed on concealer to cover up the worst of the blotchiness, then added a little liner and mascara and finally some tinted lip gloss. She hoped that Lexa would appreciate the effort, even though she knew that Lexa loved...

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt and she blinked at her reflection. Lexa hadn't actually said she loved her, but she _had_ called her 'love' and that meant something, didn't it? Unless maybe it was just something she said, something that people in general said, when someone they cared about was upset. Maybe it had just popped out.

"Clarke?"

"Just a second," she said, tossing the concealer and gloss into a little makeup bag and tucking it into the purse that she didn't carry often (at school she mostly just put everything in her backpack or her pockets) before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

"Everything okay?" Lexa asked. 

"Everything's fine," Clarke reassured her, adding a quick kiss for good measure. She saw Lexa press her lips together, the tip of her tongue darting out.

"Mmm," she said. "Cherry."

Clarke smiled. "Cherry vanilla, actually," she said. "We should probably get this show on the road, huh?"

"Probably," Lexa said. She slipped her fingers around Clarke's, giving her hand a squeeze before they had to let go to put their coats back on. 

The drive to the house didn't seem as long this time, probably because Clarke wasn't the one driving, so she wasn't constantly worrying about whether she had somehow missed a turn, even with her GPS on. They pulled up and parked in front, and before they were even all the way out of the car, Madi was out the door, a reindeer antler headband on her head and pointy-toed elf slippers on her feet. 

"I knew you would come!" she said, throwing her arms around Clarke and squeezing her tight. "Just like I knew that you liked Lexa, and Lexa liked you." 

Clarke rubbed her back gently. "I guess you were right after all," she said. 

"Hey!" Lexa said, coming around from the other side of the car. "Where's mine?" Madi launched herself at Lexa, who caught her and spun her around before setting her down again with a grunt. "You're getting too big for that," she said. 

"Never!" Madi objected. "Did you bring our presents?"

"What makes you think that I got you presents?" Lexa asked. 

"Because you _always_ get us presents," Madi said. 

"Maybe this year I didn't have time," Lexa said. "I was very busy with school, you know." 

"You've been home from school for _weeks_ ," Madi said. "Which, by the way, is totally no fair that your school is so much shorter than ours." 

"That's because they give us about ten times as much homework," Lexa said. "We're responsible for doing half of the learning on our own."

"Assuming you do the reading," Clarke murmured, and caught Lexa's sidelong smirk.

"Also I can see the bags in your trunk," Madi said.

"Maybe those are for some other kids," Lexa said. "Kids who don't wake up their friends at the buttcrack of dawn to tell them that it's Christmas _Eve_."

Madi snickered at Lexa saying 'buttcrack'. "We _need_ you here," she said. "You're the only one who knows how to make gingerbread cookies that aren't too hard to bite through!"

Lexa tilted her head like she was considering this, then grinned. "You have a point." She turned and opened the trunk fully. "Are you going to help?" she asked. 

"Yes!" Madi said. She held out her hands, and Lexa put one of the bigger packages that hadn't fit in the bags into her arms. She grabbed one bag, and Clarke the other, and they made their way inside, where Lexa was instantly swarmed with kids. Clarke took her bag from her and headed for the tree, adding the brightly wrapped gifts to those that were already there. 

After that it was off to the kitchen, which was an absolutely glorious riot of cookies in various stages. There were several mixers going, and sheet trays being filled and emptied as timers went off on a regular basis. 

"What are you going to do with all of these cookies?" Clarke asked. "There is no way that you're going to eat _all_ of these yourselves."

"I think you underestimate us," Aden said, a tiny smile curving his lips, his blue eyes bright in the same way that Lexa's got when she was happy, even when she didn't otherwise show it. "But we take them to the children's hospital, for kids who are stuck there for Christmas, and the doctors and nurses and stuff."

Without thinking, Clarke glanced over at where Lexa had been a minute ago, trying to catch her eye, but she had her back turned now, pour ingredients into a large mixing bowl, probably making the gingerbread cookies that only she could get right. 

"You all go?" she asked Aden.

He shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be safe. Hospitals are pretty much the worst place for us. The caretakers take them over." His eyes had dimmed, and the cookie that he was decorating with colored icing suddenly seemed to need his undivided attention. She watched him for a moment longer, then got to work decorating the sugar cookies shaped like ornaments that she'd decided would be her project. 

After a few minutes, then, Aden looked up. "Hey, if you want, we can make a plate of cookies for you to take to Dr. Griffin," he said. "She's your mom, right?"

"Yes, she is," Clarke said, "and I think she would like that a lot." She flashed him a grin. "I know that I would."

He grinned back. "We'll make sure she gets all the best ones," he said. "Like this one. What do you think?" He held it up to show her. It was a Christmas tree that he'd frosted green, then added green sprinkles to look like pine needles, before carefully adding little candies to be ornaments and lights.

"Holy shhh...ugar cookies," Clarke said. "That's amazing!" She took out her phone and quickly snapped a picture of him holding the cookie. "It's almost too pretty to eat." She winked at him. 

"Almost," he agreed with a laugh. 

The afternoon passed quickly, and cookie production finally wound down. The kids got to work putting the cookies on plates while the adults cleaned up the kitchen and threw together a fairly informal dinner of soup and sandwiches. Clarke had to wonder how hungry the kids could possibly be, considering the number of cookies that hadn't quite passed quality control, and had to be eaten to destroy the evidence. 

After dinner they got out some board games, which Lexa explained was a Christmas Eve tradition. Although it seemed at first to be barely controlled chaos, after a while Clarke saw that Lexa's assertion that it usually helped calmed the kids down so that they stood some chance of falling asleep before it was actually Christmas had some merit. 

Finally, one of the caretakers, a young woman named Gaia, said that it was time for the kids to start getting ready for bed, setting off a chorus of complaints. She just looked at them sternly, her arms crossed, and after a few seconds it died down, and the kids dragged themselves upstairs to start their nighttime routines. 

All of them except Madi, who attached herself to Lexa. "Are you staying?" she asked. "Please? You're already here, and you _have to_ come back tomorrow, so you might as well just stay!" 

Clarke caught a glimpse of Aden, paused partway up the stairs, clearly listening in on the conversation. 

"We didn't bring our pajamas," Lexa said, "or our toothbrushes or anything."

Clarke cleared her throat. "Actually—" 

But she didn't get to finish, because Lexa's phone started buzzing in her pocket. She slipped it out and glanced at the screen, and all of the color drained from her face. She turned the screen so that Clarke could see it.

**Unknown Number:** Lexa?  
 **Unknown Number:** It's Ontari.  
 **Unknown Number:** I need your help.  
 **Unknown Number:** I think I did something really dumb.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke looked at Lexa, the panic she felt reflected in her girlfriend's (was she her girlfriend?) eyes. "Hey," she said to Madi. "Do I get a good night hug?"

Madi looked back and forth between them, clearly picking up on the fact that there was something going on. "Are you going to stay?" she asked, her arms still around Lexa. 

"I don't know," Lexa finally said. "Okay? I need to... I need to make a call. I don't know if we're going to stay, but you need—I need you to let go." 

"Come here," Clarke said gently, and Madi reluctantly disengaged herself from Lexa and shuffled into Clarke's arms. Clarke crouched down slightly, getting her arm around Madi's thighs, then straightened, lifting her up so that she was perched on her hip. She had to lean way back to counterbalance the little girl's weight – she really was too big for this – but Madi needed reassurance, and knowing that someone else had you – physically, absolutely – hopefully would give her that.

"What's happening?" Madi asked, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into Clarke's neck, her arms wound around her shoulders. "Why does Lexa look scared? Why do you?"

"One of her... friends just sent her a message saying that they needed her help," Clarke said. Not a lie, just light on details. Not that they had details... "She needs to call them to find out what's going on."

"Is she going to leave?" Madi asked.

"I don't know," Clarke told her, echoing what Lexa had already said. "If her friend needs her to, then yes, I'm sure she will."

"But you'll stay, won't you?" Madi asked. "If you stay, then Lexa will have to come back."

Clarke hadn't considered that possibility. Ontari had only contacted Lexa... but then she didn't – wouldn't – have Clarke's number, nor did she know her well enough to ask her for help. Would Lexa take off to go deal with whatever probably stupid thing Ontari had done and leave Clarke here? She didn't have her car, so if that's what Lexa decided she needed to do, she would be stuck.

"Lexa is going to come back," Clarke told her, hugging her a little tighter. "No matter what, Lexa is going to come back."

"Promise?"

"I promise," Clarke said, hoping like hell that she hadn't just lied. "But right now you should get ready for bed. Christmas won't come if you don't go to sleep."

Madi lifted her head, her face screwed up into a ridiculous expression as she rolled her eyes. "I'm young, not stupid," she said. "Christmas will come no matter what." 

Clarke smiled. "Okay, fine. But it will feel like it comes a lot quicker if you go to sleep." 

Madi considered that, then finally had to concede that Clarke might be right. "Fine," she said. "Can I just give Lexa one more hug?"

"Of course," Lexa said, coming back from the kitchen or wherever she'd gone for her obviously brief conference with Ontari. She held out her arms, and after one last tight squeeze, Madi transferred herself from one set of arms to another. 

Lexa held her for a long time, whispering something soft into Madi's ear before setting her down. "I'll see you in the morning," she said. "Promise."

" _Pinky_ promise?" Madi challenged, holding out one hand with her little finger extended.

Lexa hooked her pinky with Madi's. "Pinky promise. Now go upstairs before you get us both in trouble." 

Madi grinned and finally galumphed up the stairs, picking up Aden along the way. Lexa's forced smile faded as soon as she was out of sight, and she looked at Clarke. "We need to go."

Clarke nodded, immediately heading for the entryway to grab her coat and put her shoes back on, Lexa close on her heels after a hasty good night to the caretakers. They were in the car and on the road before Clarke asked, "What's going on?"

Lexa's expression was pinched. "She's sick."

"Shit," Clarke breathed. "Did you tell her to call an ambulance? If she's really sick—"

"I told her," Lexa said. "She said she couldn't. It would draw too much attention. Their neighbor was having a big Christmas Eve party and everyone would see, and that couldn't happen." 

Clarke ground her teeth. Stupid, stubborn... But teenagers were all about image, right? If there were other kids in her neighborhood, she probably didn't want them on Facebook and Twitter and everywhere else, sharing pictures and video of her being taken away in an ambulance. Because _that_ was the important thing, right?

"Maybe it's not that serious," Lexa said, but she didn't sound like she believed it. 

"Where are her parents?" Clarke asked. "If she's sick – if they know she's sick – shouldn't they be with her? Shouldn't they have taken her to the hospital, or at least be monitoring her?"

"I don't know," Lexa snapped. Then, more quietly, "I don't know, Clarke. She didn't want to talk. She just wanted me to come."

"Did she—"

"Stop." Lexa sighed, taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and touch Clarke's leg gently. "Please. We'll figure it out when we get there. I don't have any answers right now."

They were quiet for the rest of the drive. When they got to Ontari's address, Clarke thought they were dead in the water before this rescue mission or whatever it was got started. There was a giant gate in their way with a call box off to one side. But Lexa rolled down her window and reached out, flicking open a small panel and tapping in a code. The gate immediately began to open, and Lexa eased her car through, making her way down a giant looping driveway. Clarke watched as she squinted into the inadequate light, searching for something that she let out a soft sound of relief when she found. A smaller secondary drive led them around to the back of the house. 

They got out, and the door opened before they even got to it. "She is in her suite," the woman told them, each word carefully enunciated. "She says you are to be taken straight to her."

"Lead the way," Lexa said.

The hallways in the house – if it could even be called a house; Clarke was inclined to think mansion or maybe even palace – were labyrinthine, and Clarke was glad that they were being led rather than trying to follow a set of instructions to their ultimate destination... off in what seemed to be the most remote corner of the house. The woman leading them knocked on the door, then pushed it open a crack. "Miss Ontari? Your visitors are here."

"Visit—" A pause, and then, "Let them in and go away."

"Yes ma'am," the woman said, then turned back to them. "You can go in."

"Thank you," Clarke said as they moved past her and into the room. It was dark and smelled like sickness and unwashed bodies. She reached for the light switch and flicked it on. 

"Don't!" Ontari growled. "Turn it off!"

"Don't," Lexa countered, and Clarke let her hand drop. She looked around, taking in the dark wood and drapings. The walls were a pale gray, but it was obvious that Ontari had done everything in her power to make the room as cave-like as possible. The girl herself was curled up tight on a loveseat in what appeared to be a sitting area, partially but not fully separated from where the bed was. Her skin was pale and clammy, her hair stringy.

Lexa went to her, kneeling down and reaching out to press a hand to her forehead. She frowned and stood, going to the bathroom and coming back a minute later with a cloth soaked in cool water. She started wiping the sweat from Ontari's brow and upper lip and didn't stop even when the girl turned her face away like a recalcitrant toddler. "Tell me what happened," she said. 

"I'd rather not," Ontari muttered. 

" _You_ called _me_ ," Lexa pointed out. She draped the cloth against the back of Ontari's neck and touched her cheek lightly. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you," she said more gently. "But if you want me to help, I need to know what I’m helping you with."

"I already told you," Ontari said. "I'm sick. Isn't it obvious?"

"Yes," Lexa said, "that much is obvious. What I don't understand is why you called me, not your mother."

"Because she's busy," Ontari said. "She wouldn't want to be interrupted."

"This seems like the exact kind of thing that she would want to be interrupted with," Clarke said. "With Pramheda—"

Ontari glared at her. "You think you need to tell me?" Her laugh was bitter and ended with a stifled cough. "Of course she brought you. Of course you didn't listen." She shook her head. "Whatever. I need you too."

"Need us for _what_?" Lexa asked. "Please, Ontari. Every minute that you waste dodging the question is a minute less—" She stopped. "Never mind. We're leaving."

Clarke's eyes went wide, but not as wide as Ontari's. "You said—"

" _With_ you," Lexa added, realizing what it must have sounded like. "We're leaving with you. We're getting you to the hospital." She leaned down and slid her arms around Ontari, pulling her up and supporting her when she swayed on her feet. Clarke bit back questions like when the last time she had anything to eat or drink was, because they weren't important right now. 

"Where do you keep your pajamas?" she asked instead. "I'll pack you a bag quick."

Ontari just stared at her for a minute, blinking slowly, and then told Clarke where she could find the things that she would need for a hospital stay. Clarke found a battered old backpack covered in Sharpie-d doodles of esoteric patterns and stuffed things inside, making sure to grab Ontari's phone and charger and the tablet next to her bed so she wouldn't be completely bored... assuming she had time left to be. 

But she wasn't as sick as Lexa had been, and her mother had been able to turn that around, so Ontari would be fine too. She had to be.

* * *

"I can't drive stick," Clarke said with a grimace when Lexa handed her the keys to her car so that she could stay in the back with Ontari, who seemed to be fading more and more with every minute and step. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Lexa said, not sounding like she meant it, but she was resigned. She got Ontari settled in the back, then held the door open, waiting for Clarke to climb in after. "One of us needs to monitor her," she said softly. "I don't like this. We should be calling an ambulance."

"I know," Clarke said. "I'll take care of her. You just get us there as fast as you can." She climbed into the back seat, reaching for Ontari's wrist and checking her pulse. Her skin was hot to the touch, but when she took her hand – shocked when Ontari didn't immediately yank it away – her fingers were like ice even though her palms were sweating. 

"I'm going to call my mom." She brought up her recent contacts and tapped on her mother's name, pressing her phone to her ear and listening to it ring, silently pleading _pick up, pick up, pick up_.

Finally the line connected, and before her mother could even say hello, she blurted, "Please tell me that you have more."

"More what?" Abby asked. "Where are you? I haven't—"

"I know," Clarke said. "I'm sorry. I've been with Lexa. But that's not what's important right now. What's important is whether you have more of the treatment you gave her."

She caught the sound of her mother's sharp intake of breath. "Is she sick again?"

"No," Clarke said. "She's fine. She's driving. Can you please just answer the question?"

Her mother let out a sigh that was somewhere between relieved and exasperated. "Yes, there's more, but—"

"Good. If you're not at the hospital, you need to get there now. We're coming in."

"Clarke, you need to tell me what's going on," Abby said. "I will go to the hospital, but I need you to tell me what's happening. If it's not Lexa—"

"Ontari," Clarke said. She saw the girl shift, lifting her head from where it had been resting against the window. "Shh," she whispered to her. "It's okay." Ontari blinked at her, then slumped back down. Clarke checked her pulse again; it was weaker than before. She reached out and drew Ontari to her so that she could hear her breathing, feel it as the girl's shoulder dug into her body. She stroked back her hair, soaked with sweat, which could be a sign that her fever was breaking, or it could be... hell, she didn't know. She wasn't a doctor. 

"Clarke," her mother said, and it sounded like maybe it wasn't for the first time. 

"Sorry," she said. "She's sick, Mom, and getting worse. We'll be there in a few minutes." She hung up so that she could give Ontari her full attention. 

When they go to the ER, they had to prop Ontari up between them to get her through the door. They were met by Abby and a gurney, which Ontari was quickly loaded onto and whisked away behind doors that Clarke wasn't sure she would be able to get past this time. She looked at her mother, who was frowning deeply. "Why aren't you going with her?" she asked. 

"Because she's not my patient," Abby said. "I was trying to tell you, but you hung up."

"But—" Clarke shook her head. "She has Pramheda's. She was at the party."

"She does, and she was," Abby said. "Being one of my patients was not a requirement to attend the party. If a parent or legal guardian is here to authorize treatment—"

"They're not," Clarke said. "They weren't home and she wouldn't let us call them. Mom, you have to—"

"I _can't_ , Clarke," Abby said. "She's still a minor. Without authorization from a parent or legal—"

"So what?" Clarke demanded. "You're just going to let her _die_?"

"I'll speak to her doctor," Abby said. "We'll... figure something out."

"Can I see her?" Clarke asked. She looked around and didn't see Lexa. She assumed she'd managed to slip past, so at least Ontari wasn't alone. 

Abby pursed her lips, then sighed. "Just... be discreet," she said. "Don't make a fuss or you'll get yourself kicked out, and I won't be able to stop them this time."

"Thank you," Clarke said. She slipped through the doors, her mother behind her, and they found the room where Ontari had been transferred to a bed, looking small and lost in the middle of all the wires and monitors. There was an IV in her hand, dripping what Clarke assumed was just saline, maybe with some added glucose. Something safe enough that if her mother came storming in saying she hadn't agreed to this, they could say they hadn't administered anything that could even really count as medicine; they'd just been keeping her hydrated. 

Clarke found a chair and set it next to Lexa's. "Why don't you tell us what happened?" she asked. 

Ontari looked at her, then away. "Lexa got better," she said. "She said she got sick – really sick – but then she got better." A pause, and then even softer, "We never get better." Lexa took Ontari's hand and pressed it between both of her own. For a second Ontari looked like she was going to pull away, then decided against it, or maybe she just didn't have the energy. 

"I didn't want to wait," Ontari said. "I didn't want to wait for them to test everything, to make sure that it worked, and stayed working. It could take _years_ and I don't have years, probably. So... I got myself sick."

"Except my mother's not your doctor," Clarke said. "And you're a minor."

Ontari closed her eyes, and when she opened them there were tears beaded in her lashes. "I thought that if I was sick... if they thought I might die... that it woudn't matter. That they would save me anyway."

Lexa let out a long breath. She brought Ontari's hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it, her other hand extending to brush back her hair from her forehead before she stood up and kissed her temple. "You brilliant idiot," she said. 

"They're not going to, though," Ontari said. "Are they?"

"My mom's working on it," Clarke told her, squeezing her calf through the blankets draped over her. "She's calling your doctor and your parents."

Ontari slumped, and the tears spilled and flowed down her cheeks. "I don't want to die," she said. "Please don't let them let me die."

"We're not going to," Clarke said, with more confidence than she felt. "You're going to be fine."

Lexa looked at her, lines etched between her eyebrows. She knew that Clarke was all but making a promise that they didn't know whether they would be able to keep, and maybe she shouldn't have. Maybe it was wrong to give this suddenly fragile girl false hope, but to look her in the eyes and tell her, 'You're right, you're probably going to die, and we're going to be forced to let you,' wasn't something that Clarke could do. 

"Your vitals are stable right now," Lexa said. "You're not getting worse. They'll figure something out." 

"I hope so," Ontari murmured. "Not that anyone would care, but I don't want to die on Christmas..."

"Hey," Lexa said, her tone sharper than she probably meant it to be, but that happened when she was stressed, and there was no question that right now she was more stressed than Clarke had ever seen her, including when Lexa herself had been the one dying. It was written in every line of her body; she practically vibrated with the tension. Clarke watched her jaw clench, then release, and when she spoke again her tone was softer, although it still held an edge. " _I_ would care." She reached out to smooth Ontari's hair back again, the fine black strands near her hairline damp with sweat. "Maybe we don't always get along, but I would care if we lost you."

Another tear dripped down the side of Ontari's nose, and she turned her head away from Lexa, trying to scrub it away against the scratchy pillowcase. Clarke got up and found a box of tissues which weren't much softer, but Lexa took one anyway to wipe Ontari's cheek as gently as she could. 

"Don't," Ontari snapped, although it came out more of a whine, like a small child that didn't want to want to be coddled and comforted. "Leave me alone." 

Lexa actually smiled. "If that was what you really wanted, you wouldn't have called me," she said. "Now you've got me, and you're stuck with me." 

"Great," Ontari said dryly, but Clarke thought she saw her relax, just a little. 

"I'm going to go check in with my mom," she said softly, squeezing Lexa's shoulder with one hand and what she thought was Ontari's knee with the other. "I'll be right back."

Lexa tipped her head to brush her cheek against Clarke's fingers. "Thanks," she said. 

Clarke stepped out of the room, walking down the hall a little before leaning against the wall and burying her head in her hands for a minute. How could Ontari have been so stupid? What if her mother hadn't had any more of the cure – treatment, there was no guarantee yet that it was a cure – to give her? What if her doctor said no? What if her _parents_ did? Not that Clarke could imagine that; what parent would want to watch their child die if there was a chance, however remote, that they might be able to stop it? Doctors could be really possessive of their patients, and whoever's care Ontari was in might not appreciate someone stepping on their toes and doing what they hadn't been able to. But if she was really, truly dying, did they really have a choice?

She finally pushed herself away from the wall and headed for her mother's office, assuming she would have gone there to have a little bit of quiet and privacy to make whatever calls she needed to make. The door was cracked open and the light was on. She tapped her knuckles against the wood, and then poked her head inside.

Her mother waved her in, holding up a finger for her to wait. "Yes," she said, "I see. I understand. Yes, thank you. I appreciate it. Yes. Merry Christmas to you too. Bye." She set the phone down and propped her head in her hands, her nails scraping her scalp as she looked ready to tear her own hair out. 

"Everything okay?" Clarke asked, even though the answer was pretty damn obvious. 

"No," Abby said. "Everything is very much not okay."

"What's going on?" Clarke asked.

Abby pressed her lips together, the veins in her temples and the sides of her neck standing out as she ground her teeth. "Your friend Ontari?"

"She's not—" Clarke started to say, then stopped herself. Whatever foot she and Ontari might have gotten off on, now wasn't the time to quibble over whether or not they were friends. Not when she and Lexa might be the only two people who really cared about whether or not she made it through the night. "What about her?"

"I wasn't able to get access to a single one of her medical records. Not one. It's as if she's never seen a doctor in her life."

"That's not possible, though," Clarke said. "Is it? Someone would have had to diagnose her, and monitor her treatment, wouldn't they?"

"There's really no treatment for Pramheda's," Abby said. "It's mostly just monitoring and trying to nip anything that comes up in the bud before the immune system really has a chance to ramp up to a full-on attack."

"Monitoring, then," Clarke said. "Someone had to do it."

"One would assume," Abby said. "And yet."

Clarke frowned, but then had a realization. "If no one's treating her, then there's no one to stop you from treating her, either," she said. "No one to say that you have no right to treat their patient. Not that they could anyway, since she chose to come to the hospital. It's your job, your _duty_ to do whatever it takes to get her better. Right?"

"Except she's still a minor and cannot legally consent to her own medical treatment," Abby said. "Only her mother can do that."

"Did you—were you able to talk to her?"

"The conversation was fairly one-sided," Abby said. "As soon as I said that I was Dr. Abigail Griffin, and that I was calling from Tondisi General, the first thing out of her mouth was, 'What did she do?' Which was closely followed by, 'If she's not dead, I'll kill her,' and 'Don't you dare do anything until I get there.' I tried to ask when that might be, but she'd already hung up."

"She's probably on her way then," Clarke said. 

Her mother didn't look as sure about that as Clarke would have liked, but she didn't say anything. Instead she asked, "How is she?"

"Scared," Clarke said. "She thinks you're going to let her die."

"I'm not going to let her die," Abby said, then frowned. "But I'm not going to risk losing my license and the ability to help my other patients, either." 

"Even if that means letting her die," Clarke said. "Don't lie to me, Mom. Don't lie to her, either. She's young, and she may have made a choice that wasn't great, but she's _not_ stupid. She just maybe didn't fully understand the way things work. She thought that if she came in sick and you could help her. You would have to save her, even if she's not your patient." 

Abby sighed. "We'll see what happens when her mother gets here," she said. "As long as she understands the possible risks and consents, I will do everything I can."

"And if she doesn't?"

Clarke's phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. "Shit," she said when her screen lit up. "She's here." She pushed out of her chair, all but running down the hall back to the room where she'd left Ontari and Lexa. 

The doorway was blocked with bodies, nurses and orderlies who looked like they didn't know what to do about the scene they were witnessing. Clarke managed to squeeze past, nudging with shoulders and knees until she could see what was going on.

A tall woman stood in the room, made taller by the heels that she wore. Clarke couldn't see much of her dress under the long coat with the fur collar that she wore, but what she could see sparkled. Ontari had said her parents, or her mother, or whoever this woman was to her, was at a party... apparently a pretty fancy one from the looks of things. 

"Get up," the woman said, her voice enough to send needles of ice through Clarke's veins. "We're going home."

"She can't—" Lexa started to say, but the woman turned on her with a look of such fierce hatred that it momentarily rendered her mute. 

"I mean it, Ontari," the woman said. "Get out of that bed right now. We are leaving. You have caused me enough embarrassment for one night; I don't need you causing a scene here as well."

"She's not causing a scene," Lexa said, finally recovering. "She's only pointing out that she is sick, and the best place for her to be right now is in the hospital. I'm sure that you're aware of the possible consequences of even a basic cold for someone with—"

"I am well aware," the woman said. "I am also aware that nothing that has been done up to this point by people like this," she turned her chilling gaze on the medical professionals – and where the hell was her mom? Clarke wondered – around them, "has done any good, so you'll forgive me if I think that her being surrounded by other sick people, picking up god knows what, _isn't_ the best place for her."

"There's a treatment now!" Ontari said. "There's a cure! Lexa, show her!" 

"Excuse me." Abby finally pushed through the crowd at the door, sending them scurrying with a look, save for a few people that Clarke was pretty sure were security. She turned to the woman. "I'm sorry," she said, "Ms. Frost? I don't believe we've met. I'm Dr. Abigail Griffin. We spoke—"

"I know who you are," Ms. Frost said. "Has Ontari been admitted?"

"No," Abby said. "Not yet, but—"

"Good," Ms. Frost said. "Then we'll be going."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Abby said. "Her vitals are—" a glance at the monitors, which registered an increased heart rate, among other things, "—were stable, but I feel strongly that if she were to leave the hospital, where she can be closely monitored, there is a very strong chance that her condition could deteriorate rapidly, and there might not be time to get her back here."

"Are you finished?" the woman asked. Abby nodded. "Good. You have known my child for... an hour? Less? While I've known her her entire life. You may be some kind of authority when it comes to Pramheda patients, and that is, of course, admirable, but I am the ultimate authority when it comes to Ontari, and—"

"And she is a _child_ with a terminal disease who is not under the care of any known medical professional," Abby snapped. "I've already called the authorities to report a case of severe medical neglect. They assured me that they would be over to investigate right away." 

That explained the delay, at least, or maybe that had been her mother getting security, and she'd already called before Clarke came to talk to her. She didn't know, but it didn't matter. The end result was the same. 

"This is not a game that you want to play with me," Ms. Frost said. "You _will_ lose."

"All I am asking is that you allow Ontari to remain here where we can monitor her," Abby said. "As a parent, I know you want what's best for your child, and I genuinely believe that this is what is best for her right now."

"Of course you do," Ms. Frost said. "It's your job to believe that. And you are going to try to have me declared an unfit guardian because I won't allow you to poison my child, to poke and prod her and use her as your guinea pig."

"Would you rather she died?" Abby asked, her tone acid. "Can you really look your daughter in the eye and say, 'I'm willing to let you die a martyr to my principles'?" 

"I don't need to," Ms. Frost said. "She understands the reality of her situation, clearly far better than you do."

Clarke looked at Ontari, who was staring fixedly at the wall across from her, her feet on the floor like she might actually do what her mother said. Her face was completely blank and her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. All the fight had gone out of her, and she looked small and defeated as she began to detach the wires from her body. 

"Good girl," Ms. Frost said. "You said you haven't admitted her, but I assume that there is some sort of paperwork that you're going to make me sign, stating that I'm aware that I'm taking her against medical advice? You can go prepare that now. We're done here."

"Of course," Abby said. "If you'll just—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Ms. Frost said. "Not without my child."

Before either of them could say anything more, the potential showdown was interrupted by the arrival of a man and a woman who looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here on Christmas Eve, and Clarke wondered what kind of strings her mother had to pull, what favors she had to call in, to get them here so quickly. "Nia Frost?" the man asked. 

She turned to look at him, and to his credit, the man seemed unfazed by the way that she was looking at him, like he was a bug that she could crush by thinking it hard enough. "Yes?"

"I'm going to need to ask you a few questions, ma'am, just so we can get this all straightened out. It will just take a few moments of your time." 

"You can ask me here," she said. "I'm not leaving this room."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist," he said. "My partner will stay here with your daughter."

"Is she going to interrogate a sick child?"

"No ma'am," the man said. "She'll just sit with her, make sure that she's safe."

"Ontari," Nia said, and Ontari turned to look at her. Nia didn't speak, but she didn't need to. Her message was clear: Ontari wasn't to say a word to this woman, or anyone, about anything. "I will only leave if she does too," Nia said, looking at Abby. "I don't want her anywhere near my child."

"That's fine, ma'am," he said. "That's not a problem. Dr. Griffin?"

"Of course," she said. She brushed past Clarke on her way to the door, and Clarke folded her fingers around the scrap of paper she'd slipped to her, hoping no one – or really just Nia – had noticed.

Ontari continued to pull the sensors from her skin, the ones that monitored her heartbeat, and one of the nurses turned off the monitor when it started to squeal. She looked around like she didn't quite know where she was or what she was doing. 

"You don't have to do this," Lexa said. "Give Dr. Griffin a chance. She'll—"

"She won't win," Ontari said flatly. "No one ever does against _her_." She smiled, but there wasn't a hint of happiness in it. "I never should have called you. I never should have come here. I made a mistake, and now I'll pay for it."

"With your _life_?" Lexa demanded. 

"If I'm lucky." Ontari gripped the rail on the side of the bed and braced against it, forcing herself to stand. A second later, all of the color drained from her face, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed.


	5. Chapter 5

_If I'm lucky._

The words echoed in Clarke's head, but she couldn't make them make sense. Ontari had called them – called Lexa – because she was sick, and afraid that she was going to die. She'd practically begged them not to let them let her die. Now, when faced with that possibility, she said she would be lucky if she paid with her life? 

What the hell was happening to this girl that death was the better option?

"Help me!" Lexa demanded, snapping Clarke out of her stupor, and she went to her, kneeling down beside the fallen girl and pressing her fingers to her throat.

"She has a pulse," she said, "and she's still breathing."

"We need to get her into bed," Lexa said. She looked up at the nurses who were still in the room, watching this happen and making no move to do anything. Clarke didn't really blame them. Everything was happening so quickly – too quickly – and Nia had made her wishes clear. Clarke didn't know who she was, but it was obvious that she had enough power to make people fear her wrath. It was enough to make anyone hesitate. 

"Please," she said, looking at them too. "We can't just leave her on the floor."

Slowly, and then more quickly, they shifted from statues to medical professionals, and within a minute Ontari was off the floor and back in bed. Beyond that, though, they couldn't do anything, so they quietly left the room to go attend to other patients. 

"She needs help," Lexa said, glaring at the Family Services worker, or whoever she was, who remained in the room. "She's sick, and she's only going to get sicker."

"We're doing everything that we can," the woman said. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to be patient and—"

"She doesn't have _time_ for us to be patient!" Lexa snarled, and then dropped her voice when Ontari flinched, reacting to the tone even though Clarke thought she was probably already too far gone to understand the words. "Shh," Lexa whispered, taking the hand that didn't have the IV port in it and stroking it. "It's okay, Ontari. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

For all the good it did. Clarke's stomach knotted at the thought that she might watch another person die in front of her, and that this time they might not come back. Ontari needed more than them just being there. She needed more than thoughts and prayers. She needed medicine. 

It was only then that she remembered the paper that her mother had slipped to her. She turned so that the Family Services woman couldn't see and opened it. On it was scribbled a series of numbers and letters that didn't make any sense... until they did. At least she hoped they did. The first she thought was probably a room number, the second a code, and then another code, and then what looked like it might be a dosage. 

"I'll be back," Clarke said, squeezing first Lexa's shoulder and then Ontari's leg before rushing out of the room without giving a chance for anyone to ask her any questions about where she was going or why. 

She didn't run because she didn't want to draw attention to herself, to give anyone any reason to stop her. She pushed the button for the elevator, but quickly lost patience and slammed through the door into the stairwell, clattering down the stairs at breakneck speed until she was in the basement where the labs were. Her heart gave a sickening lurch as she got to a door with a magnetic lock pad next to it, the kind that you needed to tap or swipe an ID badge to unlock, but when she tried the door there was no resistance. She breathed a sigh of relief and fast-walked down the hall, her head jerking from side to side as she took in the room numbers posted at each door. 

Finally she found the one she was looking for and jabbed the next set of numbers into the keypad next to it. It beeped and a little light flashed green. She twisted the handled and pushed in, finding herself in her mother's lab. This was where she worked. This was where she'd figured out how to treat – maybe cure – Pramheda's Disease. This was where she'd found a way to save Lexa, and now – hopefully, if Clarke was right, if Clarke didn't fuck this up – Ontari. 

Clarke looked around, frantically searching for whatever it was that her mother was trying to get her to find. But panicking wasn't going to help, so she took a breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to slow down, to really look. She realized then that the second set of numbers was actually two sets that had blurred together, maybe on purpose to throw off anyone who might try and decipher what it all meant. 

She peered at the cabinets more closely and realized that they were labeled. It took another few seconds to find the one that she was looking for, and her hands were shaking as she keyed in the second part of the number, which she prayed was the code.

The door popped open with a hiss. Inside there was a bottle, the kind that injectable medicine was in, but there was nothing on the label except for a whole string of numbers and letters, nothing to tell her what it was. But there was only one thing that it _could_ be... right? 

Clarke grabbed the bottle, then rummaged through the drawers until she found a needle. She noticed one of her mother's doctor's coats draped over the back of a chair and shrugged it on. Anyone who knew her mother would obviously know that Clarke wasn't her, but the white coat would give her a layer of camouflage while hurrying back through the halls. She slipped the capped needle into one of the pockets and the bottle into the other, then pulled it out and stuck it in her jeans pocket instead, not wanting to take a chance on losing it if she needed to dispose of the coat. She could always find another needle. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and for a second she considered ignoring it, but it might be her mother or Lexa. She pulled it out and checked the screen. 

**Lexa:** Please come back. I can't do this alone.

Clarke's heart lurched and it felt like an ice cube had been dropped down the back of her shirt. She didn't need to ask what it was that Lexa couldn’t do alone. She knew. 

**Clarke:** On my way.

She quickly made sure that all of the cabinets and drawers were closed, then left the lab and raced back up the stairs. _I really need to work out more,_ she thought as she struggled to catch her breath on the way back to the ER. She didn't want to have to explain why she was gasping like a fish out of water. She shucked her mother's coat and stuffed it into one of the laundry bins – it would make it back to her mom eventually – and slipped back into Ontari's room. 

Ontari wasn't hooked up to any monitors anymore, but it was obvious that in the time Clarke had been gone, she'd gotten worse. Much worse. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and her breathing was ragged and labored. Clarke touched her wrist, feeling for a pulse, and it was unsteady, weak one minute and surging the next. 

"You need to go tell her mother," Clarke said, looking at the Family Services worker. "It won't be long now." 

"I—" the woman started, but Lexa whirled on her, fire in her eyes. 

"It's bad enough you're going to just let her die," she snarled. "Your job is supposed to be to protect children, to protect _her_ , but you've decided that what her mother wants is more important than her life. But fine, whatever. If you want that on your conscience, if you think you'll be able to sleep at night knowing—" Lexa stopped as Ontari started to shudder. Clarke didn't know if she was seizing or what was happening, only that it wasn't good, and she could save her, she _had_ to save her, but if she did it while that woman was in the room...

"Get her fucking mother!" Lexa shouted. "She should be forced to witness what she's done."

The woman stood up. She hesitated for a second longer, and then left the room. 

"Check her chart," Clarke said. "Quick. I need to know how much she weighs." 

"There's no chart," Lexa said. "Nothing on paper. I think it's all electronic." 

"Shit." Clarke's hands were shaking so badly she could barely get the needle into the bottle. "She's about my height, a little lighter than me..." 

"What...?" Lexa finally looked at her and her eyes widened. "What's that?"

"It's what's going to save her," Clarke said. _Or possibly kill her if I get this wrong, but she's dying anyway._ "My mother gave me the dosage but it's based on weight and I don't know how precise it has to be."

"Just do it," Lexa said. "Hurry." She moved so that her body was blocking anyone who came in the door from seeing what Clarke was doing, and Clarke slipped the needle into the IV port, injecting the liquid in and watching it drain into Ontari's hand. Once it was in she put the needle in the sharps container on the wall and slipped the bottle back into her pocket, then quickly removed the IV port from Ontari's hand, hastily taping gauze over the pinprick wound it left behind. She hoped they wouldn't remember that Ontari hadn't removed it herself. 

Everyone rushed to the door just as Lexa settled back on the edge of the bed, brushing back Ontari's hair where it was stuck to her forehead. "Come on," she whispered. "Come on, you precious little brat. Just hold on a little longer... I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. Please, Ontari."

"Get away from her," Nia said, coming up and trying to pull Lexa away, but she wouldn't budge. "Get away from my child!" She dug her nails into Lexa's shoulders like claws, but Lexa gave no sign that she even felt it. She was too focused on Ontari's face.

Clarke kept her fingers on Ontari's wrist, hope draining away as it weakened and slowed, as Ontari's chest sunk and didn't rise again. A second passed, and then another. If there had been monitors to tell them what Clarke could feel happening, the doctors and nurses would have been leaping into action, or if Nia still refused treatment on Ontari's behalf, calling time of death. 

11:59 pm.

_You didn't die on Christmas,_ Clarke thought. _You died on Christmas **Eve**._

But then Ontari twitched, and her chest rose, and her pulse fluttered under Clarke's fingertips, taking a moment before it founds its proper rhythm, and Clarke's knees wobbled and gave out, and she sat down on her other side, leaning down to press her forehead to the back of Ontari's hand, surprised that her sense of relief was almost as strong as it had been when they'd brought Lexa back. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised; this time she was the one who'd been responsible for doing it.

"Let go of her," Nia said. "Both of you, get away from her _right now_."

"No," Lexa said. "I'm not leaving her. She's been alone for far too long. When she wakes up, she's going to know that she's not anymore, and she never will be again."

Nia raised her chin. "I am going to insist that these girls be removed from the room," she said, "and that you bring me the paperwork to sign so that I can take Ontari home."

"No," Abby said. "No, you're not taking her home now. She needs to be kept here, she needs to be admitted. She just—"

"That isn't your decision to make," Nia snapped. 

"It is," the man said. "As of right now, pending the completion of our investigation, Ontari is being made a ward of the state, and we will be making decisions on her behalf."

"You can't—"

"We can," he said. "I will be happy to discuss it with you further after the holiday, but for now, I'm going to ask that you please leave the premises. If you do not, we will have you removed."

"This isn't over," Nia hissed, her eyes flickering from him to Abby to Lexa and finally to Clarke. She turned and stalked off, as if her exit was her own idea. 

"Dr. Griffin," the man said, "we will be placing Ontari in your care, unless you deem that there is someone better qualified to treat her." 

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for coming out on such short notice."

"Of course," he said, but Clarke wondered if this had tipped the scales far enough that now her mother owed this man a favor if he ever needed it. If she did, she was sure that her mother considered it worth it. "You all have a happy holiday. We'll have someone come check on her in the morning, unless..." He left it hanging.

"She'll be fine until then," Abby said. "Thank you. Again. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Clarke chimed in as he turned to go. Lexa was still watching Ontari, her eyes barely leaving her face, and then only to look down and check the rise and fall of her chest. She kept her hand pressed between her own palms, lifting it and resting her cheek against Ontari's pale knuckles.

"Is this what it was like?" she asked Clarke. "Is that what happened to me?"

"You didn't come back on your own," Clarke said, her throat aching as flashes of memory rose unbidden. 

"I'm sorry," Lexa said. 

"Don't be," Clarke said. "You came back. That's what matters."

Lexa nodded and let go with one of her hands so she could reach out and touch Ontari's cheek. "When you wake up," she said softly, "it will be Christmas. I don't have your present here, though, so you'll have to wait for it. Maybe I'll send Clarke to the gift shop, see what she can find." Her lips curved into a teasing smile even though Ontari couldn't see it. "Stuffed bears holding satin hearts that say Get Well Soon is totally your aesthetic, right?" The smile faded a little. "But you sleep now. It's all right. You're going to be just fine."

Clarke jumped when her mother's hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed her approaching. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Abby asked.

"Of course," Clarke said. She laid Ontari's hand at her side and reached across her to touch Lexa's. "We'll be right back."

"I'll be here," Lexa said. 

Clarke followed her mother out of the room and down the hall into the office they'd been in earlier. Her mother sank heavily into a chair, and Clarke did the same. She felt the bottle digging into her leg and stood again, extracting it from her pocket and offering it to her mother. 

Abby's hands weren't quite steady as she took it. "Did you...?"

Clarke nodded. "We didn't know how much she weighed, so I had to guess," she said. "I hope I didn't mess it up."

"She's alive," Abby said. "That's the most important thing. If the dose wasn't perfect... she's still alive for us to find that out, and we'll figure out the next steps from there."

"Thank you," Clarke said. "If you hadn't—"

"I just gave you the tools," Abby said, "and hoped you would understand what you'd been given and get the opportunity to use it. You did the rest."

"Thank god she still had the IV in her hand," Clarke said, "or I might not have been able to." She slumped back in her chair. "Do you really think she'll be okay?"

"Lexa is," Abby said, "or seems to be. I might as well do another blood draw on her while she's here. I have no reason to believe that Ontari would be any different."

"Why do you think her mother, or whoever the hell Nia is to her, was so adamant that she not be treated?" Clarke asked. "Why would you sentence your child to death when there's a possibility that they might live?"

"I don't know," Abby said, "but I intend to find out."

"After you left, before..." Clarke swallowed. "Ontari said that she never should have called Lexa, that she shouldn't have asked for help. She said she was going to have to pay for it, and when Lexa asked, 'With your life?' Ontari said, 'If I'm lucky.'"

Abby shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure I have it in me to try to untangle that right now," she said. "She's safe for now, and that's going to have to be good enough."

"What if Nia comes back?" Clarke asked. "What if you leave and she comes back, and another doctor—"

"I'll make sure that everyone knows," Abby said. "It's going to be okay, Clarke." She reached across the desk to squeeze Clarke's hand. "I take it I shouldn't expect you home tomorrow? Today, I guess, now."

"We need to go back to see the kids," Clarke said. "They're expecting us." Except now she wasn't sure that Lexa would be willing to leave Ontari, although once the girl was awake and back to being herself again, Lexa might change her mind. There was only so much snark and hostility one could take, especially on Christmas.

"If you do go over there, make sure that you shower really thoroughly and don't wear anything that you've worn here," her mother said. "I'm still not in a place where I feel comfortable giving this to the children if I can avoid it; I'd rather they just stay healthy for the time being."

"We will," Clarke said, surprised that her mother wasn't forbidding them from going at all. When Lexa had gotten sick, Abby had seemed determined to keep her away. Maybe it was that she knew that she had a treatment that could work, or maybe it was just that they were kids and it was Christmas.

"What's going to happen to her?" Clarke asked. "Ontari?"

"I don't know," her mother said, leaning back in her chair and sighing. "I think there's more going on than we're aware of, and I think until we know what that is..." But she trailed off, not offering any kind of solution or even speculation. Clarke could fill in the blank, though. Until they knew what was going on, everything was up in the air.

"She can't go back to that woman," Clarke said. "When Ontari said she'd kill her... I believed her. She's not safe there."

"I know," Abby said. "I'm going to do everything that I can. I promise." She pushed herself up, pressing her hands into the small of her back and stretching. "I'm going to take this back down to the lab," she said. "Try to get some rest. Try to get Lexa to do the same." 

"I will." Clarke stood up too, and found herself unexpectedly in her mother's arms. She pressed her face into her white-coated shoulder, her eyes pricking with tears as exhaustion – physical, mental, emotional – crashed over her like a wave. They clung to each other for a long time, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go.

Finally, though, Abby loosened her grip, taking half a step back, still holding Clarke by her upper arms. "I'm so proud of you," she said. "So proud."

Clarke sniffed and nodded. "I'm proud of you, too," she said. 

Abby smiled. "I love you," she said, and kissed Clarke's forehead. "If I don't see you again today... Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mom," Clarke said, and watched her make her way slowly down the hall, her footfalls heavy and dragging on the linoleum. 

She made her way back to the room where she'd left Lexa and Ontari. When she poked her head in, she saw that Lexa's head was on the bed, pillowed on one arm, the other draped over Ontari, still holding her hand. She lifted her head and blinked, smiling muzzily at Clarke. 

"Any change?" Clarke whispered. Lexa shook her head. Clarke pulled up a chair beside her, leaning in to rest her cheek against the back of Lexa's shoulder, her arms sliding around her waist. "There's no way you're leaving, is there?" she asked. Lexa shook her head again. "Okay," Clarke said. She sat up straighter and pulled Lexa back against her. It wasn't even a little bit comfortable, but what choice did she have?

Her mother came to check on Ontari maybe half an hour later and declared that she was stable enough for them to move her to a regular room. They dragged themselves in the wake of the bed as it was pushed through the halls and watched as Ontari was transferred from one bed to another and hooked up to monitors again. They put her IV back in to give her fluids. Once she was settled, everyone left the room, and it was just the two of them, a sleeping girl, and the beeping that told them that she was still alive. 

"There's another bed..." Clarke pointed out. "You're not going to get any sleep sitting in one of those chairs. I swear they were designed to be as uncomfortable as possible." 

"I told her I wouldn't leave her," Lexa said.

"I don't think being on the other side of the room counts as leaving," Clarke said.

"What if Nia comes back?" Lexa asked.

"They've got security in the hallway," Clarke said. "My mom isn't going to let Ontari be taken away."

"If she can influence the courts—"

Clarke took Lexa's face between her hands and kissed her softly. "It's Christmas," she said. "I don't think it matters how much influence she might or might not have; nothing is happening today."

Lexa still looked torn, but finally she nodded. She made sure that Ontari's covers were tucked around her and kissed her softly on the temple. "May visions of sugar plums dance in your head," she said. "I'll be right over there." She nodded toward the bed on the other side of the room. If Ontari had any awareness of her presence, if she heard anything that was being said, she gave no indication. Lexa hovered at her bedside for another few seconds, then came and crawled into the hospital bed with Clarke. They were both full clothed except for their shoes, and the blankets were thin, barely staving off of the chill in the air. But their bodies were warm, and the heat multiplied as they twined together, sorting themselves into as comfortable a position as could be found. 

"Merry Christmas," Clarke said, pushing up on one elbow and rubbing her nose against Lexa's. 

Lexa kissed her softly. "Merry Christmas," she murmured, and pressed her back into Clarke's chest, heavy-lidded eyes still focused on Ontari until she couldn't keep them open any longer.

* * *

"Ugh, _really_?"

Clarke pried open gummy eyes, confused for a second about where she was and why she was there. Then she caught sight of Ontari and the disgusted look on her face and remembered. She rolled her eyes at the girl's greeting, but she couldn't help grinning. "Really," she said. "Welcome back."

Ontari cocked her head. "Back?"

Clarke nodded. "You were... you..." She couldn't say it. "It was only for a few seconds. Then the treatment kicked in and—"

"You did it? She let you do it?" Ontari looked around frantically, and Clarke couldn't tell if it was hope or fear in her voice. 

Lexa groaned, rubbing at her face which was creased with lines from Clarke's sleeve. "She didn't let us do anything," she said. "We did it anyway."

"Then I'm... I'm not...?" The lines on Ontari's heart monitor went a little jagged, the accompanying beeping increasing as her heart raced. She sat up like she was seriously thinking about getting out of bed, and Clarke hastily untangled herself from the sheets to stop her, but Lexa got there first. 

"It's okay," she said. "You're going to be fine."

"No," Ontari said. "I'm not."

And the truth – Ontari's truth for as much of her life as she could remember – finally spilled out.

* * *

Abby rubbed the bridge of her nose like her head ached. Clarke understood the feeling, although it was more her heart than her head that was hurting. It wasn't any easier hearing it the second time than it had been the first.

From the time Ontari was a little girl, Nia had used her. She'd let doctors – scientists, really, not even doctors – draw her blood and experiment on it, and when blood wasn't enough, she'd let them take marrow. She'd turned her into a guinea pig, a lab rat, exactly like she'd accused Abby of wanting to do the night before. For a long time Ontari had thought that they were trying to make her better, that one day all of the pain would stop because they would find a cure, and she would get to live a long, healthy life. She would finally get to be like any other kid, doing the things that kids got to do.

Nia paraded her around like a treasured toy or pet, but once they were out of the public eye, Ontari spent most of her time alone. She didn't have friends; she wasn't allowed to because they might get her sick. She didn't even go to school; all of her lessons were online, and when she interacted with teachers, it was through video. The only time she got to be around other kids her age was when her mother let her attend events for Pramheda's patients, but she always felt like the odd one out until she finally gave up on even trying to be part of the group.

"But they weren't looking for a cure," Ontari said. "Or maybe they were, because if you're going to create a poison, you want the antidote, too. But." She swallowed, picking at edge of her blanket where it had started to pill. "One of the doctors left their notes out one time. He'd just gone to the bathroom or to get something to eat or something, I don't remember, but he left his notes out and I read them. He didn't know that I even had access to the room where he left them, but I'd figured out the code, and I read them as fast as I could, and that's when I realized that they weren't trying to save me. They never had been."

"What were they doing?" Abby asked. 

"They were trying to figure out how it worked so that they could recreate it," Ontari said. "So that they could _cause_ it. They were trying to turn it into biological warfare. How better to undermine a country than to wipe out its children? It's not quick, but if you're playing a long game..." She swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe... maybe I'm being paranoid. There weren't any details, obviously. But what was there..." She shrugged. "It doesn't take a genius." She looked down at her hands. "But if I'm not a Nightblood anymore then she has no use for me, and my body is evidence so..."

"No," Lexa said. " _Nothing_ is going to happen to you. Do you understand me?"

Ontari looked at her, blinking wide dark eyes, the saddest smile Clarke had ever seen just barely curving her lips. "It's you who doesn't understand," she said. 

"What she did to you," Lexa said, "is child abuse. It's criminal. Manufacturing biological weapons is, I'm pretty sure, even more criminal. She's not going to get away with it. Any of it." 

"She's right," Abby said. "I just need to make a few calls." 

She started to leave the room, and Ontari lurched forward like she was going to leap out of the bed and stop her. "Wait!"

Abby turned, came back. "What is it?" she asked.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Ontari said, sounding even younger than her fifteen years. "That's the only home I've ever known."

"You can stay with the rest of the Nightbloods," Lexa said. "It's not a bad place, Ontari. I promise."

"Not while she's sick," Abby said. "I don't want them exposed to whatever she has, even if she's making a remarkable recovery. Just like you did," she added, looking at Lexa. 

"She can just stay here until then," Clarke said, "can't she?"

"I'd rather she didn't," Abby said. "It's too open, too easily accessible. There's too much of a chance, even with security and plans in place, for someone to slip up. It's not a risk I'm willing to take. And no one should have to spend Christmas in the hospital." Lines form between her brows as she frowned, but then she smiled again. "Let me make some calls."

This time Ontari didn't stop her. She sank back against the bed, pulling the thin blanket up over her body and huddling underneath it. Lexa reached out to touch her but she jerked away, and Lexa pulled her hand back. "Okay," she said.

"Shouldn't you be going to play Santa to the rugrats?" Ontari asked. 

"Not until we know you're safe," Lexa said. "But you're right. I should call to let them know that I'm going to be later than expected. I'll be right back." She followed Abby out into the hall, leaving Clarke alone with Ontari, who had closed her eyes, her jaw clenched, and Clarke knew what it looked like when you were fighting with everything in you not to cry. She didn't try to comfort her; she knew that Ontari would only rebuff any attempt that she made. She just stayed nearby in case Ontari needed anything.

Lexa came back first, and Clarke could see a cluster of little faces on her screen. "There's some people who want to say hello," she said, turning the screen toward Ontari.

"Tell them to—" Ontari started but stopped at Lexa's glare. She scowled. "Yeah, hi," she said. 

"Ontariiii!" Madi's face suddenly dominated the screen, like she'd grabbed the phone and was now holding it a little too close. "I'm so, so sorry you're sick on Christmas!"

"It's..." Ontari swallowed. "I'm gonna be okay," she said. 

"But I wanted you to come here today!" Madi said. "Even though sometimes you're kind of jerk."

"Madi!" Clarke thought it was Aden's voice, but she wasn't completely sure. 

"Well it's _true_ ," Madi said. "She tried to smash into us when we were ice skating, remember? And she says whatever she wants even when she knows that it's mean."

"I know but that doesn't mean _you_ should say whatever _you_ want." Definitely Aden. 

"It's okay," Ontari said. "She's right. Sometimes I'm kind of a jerk."

"She still shouldn't say it," Aden grumbled. 

"Maybe I can come—" Ontari started, then stopped, finally finishing after a too long pause with, "another time."

"I hope so," Madi said. "And I hope that you have a good Christmas even thought you're sick. We can send you food so you don't have to eat hospital food, and your presents." 

"I'd like that," Ontari said. 

"We'll let you know where to send them," Lexa said. "And I'll see you later, okay? Don't have too much fun without me."

"We won't," Madi said, pouting. "Titus won't let us open our presents until you're here."

"I'll get there as soon as I can," Lexa said.

"Clarke too?" Madi asked. 

Lexa looked at Clarke and she nodded. "Clarke too," she confirmed. 

Madi cheered. "Just hurry, okay?"

"As soon as we can," Lexa said. "I promise." She ended the call. 

"You can go," Ontari said. "I don't care."

"Not until we know what's going on," Clarke said. "If you think I'm going to watch you die and then just walk away, you don't know me very well."

"I don't know you at all," Ontari said. 

"Well then I guess you're just going to have to learn," Clarke said, "because you're stuck with me now." She felt Lexa's fingers squeeze around hers, and she didn't have to look to know she was smiling.

"You two are disgusting," Ontari said. "I think I'm going to puke."

"I hope not," Abby said, coming back into the room. "It might prevent me from discharging you."

Ontari looked up, a spark of hope in her eyes that was quickly extinguished. "I have nowhere to go."

"You're coming home with me," Abby said. "I'll be able to monitor you without you having to be stuck here, and I'll know that you're safe."

"You can't—"

"I can," Abby said. "A few years ago Clarke's father and I thought about taking in foster kids once Clarke went off the college. After her father passed, I didn't follow through with it, but I've kept up with the requirements to stay approved as a foster parent in case I ever changed my mind."

"Isn't it a conflict of interest?" Ontari asked. 

"Keeping an eye on a child in your care after a bout of severe dehydration that had them hospitalized overnight? No," Abby said. 

"It wasn't—"

Abby cut her off. "On paper it was. For our purposes. Let's get you out of here. I'm not the world's greatest cook, but I promise I can do better than the hospital cafeteria." 

"I don't—"

"Your bag is right here," Clarke said. "There's pajamas and real clothes."

"What if I don't want to?" Ontari asked.

"For now, it's my house or the hospital," Abby said. "If you really want to go somewhere else, we can work that out after the holiday." 

Ontari just looked at her, and then at Clarke and finally at Lexa, who nodded. "This is a good thing," Lexa said. "This is what you wanted. A long, healthy life, doing the things that normal kids do. This is a second chance, but only if you let it be."

"She's going to find me," Ontari said. "She's going to—"

"She's going to spend Christmas in police custody," Abby said. 

"Please, Ontari," Lexa said. "It's Christmas. Let us give you this."

Slowly, Ontari nodded. "Okay," she said, reaching for her bag. Clarke put it in her hands. "But only because it's Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also check out the awesome moodboard that [rsconne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsconne/pseuds/rsconne) created for me!
> 
>  


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you ready for this?" Lexa asked, looking past Clarke toward the house. They probably only had a matter of seconds before the kids, or at least Madi, came pouring out the door, having noticed the car pulling into the driveway. 

"No," Clarke said, smiling at her. "But that would be true even if I'd gotten more than a few hours of sleep." 

Lexa leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet and full of unspoken promises of better sleep that night, warm and snug in Lexa's bed, nothing between them but skin. Clarke felt the chill of the hospital, which had only partially been erased by the thorough shower that her mother had prescribed (and which had been undertaken alone to avoid possible distraction, because the kids were waiting on them), thaw from the inside out, and she reached out to pull Lexa in, deepening the kiss and letting it linger for as long as she dared. 

When she finally pulled away, Lexa blinked dazedly at her for a second. "You're a mean one, Ms. Clarke Griff," she said, altering her name to make it scan properly for that tired old song, her lips curving to take any possible sting from the words. 

Clarke just grinned, and then nearly jumped out of her skin when her door was yanked open from the outside. "Come _on_!" Madi said, reaching in and tugging on her arm. "We've been waiting _forever_ for you!" 

"Hasn't anyone told you that patience is a virtue?" Lexa asked her. 

Madi actually considered that for a second, then shrugged. "No," she said. "And I've _been_ patient." 

"All right," Lexa laughed. "Let Clarke get out, and we'll be inside in a second."

"I'm not leaving you alone," Madi said. "You'll just start _kissing_ again."

Lexa shook her head and climbed out, coming around the car to scoop Madi up, her legs dangling past Lexa's knees even when she pulled them up to get a better grip around Lexa. "And whose fault is that?" she teased. "I seem to remember _someone_ trying to play matchmaker at a certain ice skating party not so long ago."

"I didn't know it would make you late for Christmas," Madi grumbled, but she seemed pleased that her scheme to get them together had worked. "Inside!" She pointed toward the door, and Lexa dutifully carried her to it, setting her down once the were inside so she could take off her boots and jacket and scarf. 

Clarke did the same, barely managing to get them tucked away or hung on hooks before she was surrounded by small bodies, all trying to hug her and tug on her at the same time. She didn't point out to them that doing so made it take longer for them to reach the living room than it would have if they'd given her a little bit of space. That wasn't the point. 

"Are you sure you don't want to have breakfast first?" Titus asked. Clarke was surprised to hear the teasing note in the man's voice; she hadn't thought he had it in him. 

"NO!" the kids said, shouting him down.

"They haven't eaten?" Lexa asked, lines forming between her brows. "Madi said they weren't allowed to open presents, but—"

"They ate a little something," Gaia reassured her. "But we held off on the big breakfast. It will just be more of a brunch now. They're not starving." She smiled, and Lexa relaxed and smiled back. 

"Let's get to it then," Lexa said. She settled into a place on the couch which, judging from the fact that she was one of the last to sit, and some of the kids settled on the floor for lack of anywhere else, was considered to be hers. She pulled Clarke down beside her. It was a bit of a squeeze, but Clarke didn't mind the close quarters. The warmth radiating from Lexa's body and the solid press of her against her side was reassuring. 

Gaia positioned herself by the tree and handed out the presents one by one, not giving the next until the first had been unwrapped and everyone had had a chance to see. She knew the kids well enough to know who would get antsy waiting their turn and made sure that she found something for them early on, while some of the older, more patient ones (like Aden) waited without complaint, or even much fidgeting. Once everyone had one, she moved on to the next round. They didn't get much – two, maybe three things from the caregivers at the house, and then the gifts from Lexa – but they all seemed to be genuinely pleased with what they'd received. 

"Clarke picked those out for you," Lexa said when Aden's eyes lit up at his Star Wars LEGO set. 

"I hope you don't already have them," Clarke said. 

"I don't," Aden said. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Clarke said. "My dad got me a LEGO set every year. I liked them, but mostly because he would help me build them." She smiled at the memory, and felt Lexa's hand twine through hers, squeezing. 

"She also picked out your art stuff, Madi," Lexa said. "She's an artist too."

Madi bounced up from her place on the floor and launched herself into Clarke's lap, wrapping her arms around her neck and hugging her tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said. "I love it!"

"You're very welcome," Clarke said. "I can help show you how to use some of it a little later, if you want."

"Yes!" Madi said. "One thousand percent!"

"Okay," Clarke said. She hugged her again, lingering over the embrace as she couldn't help thinking of this vibrant, electric little girl getting sick, lying in a hospital bed that dwarfed her, struggling for oxygen, her heart stuttering and—

"Ow!" Madi said. "You're smooshing me!"

"Sorry," Clarke said, loosening her hold. "I'm glad you like your gift."

Madi beamed at her. "Will you sit next to me at breakfast?" she asked. 

"Of course," Clarke said. 

"Okay good." Madi took her hand and pulled her up. "'Cause I'm _famished_."

Madi didn't let go until they were sitting at the table. Because she was left-handed, Clarke had to sit at the end, but Gaia ceded her place at one end of the table to Lexa so that they could sit next to each other. 

"We usually end up with only two big meals on Christmas," Lexa explained, probably taking in Clarke's surprise at just how much food was on the table. It looked like the feasts in the Harry Potter movies, only breakfast style. "A late breakfast, and then a mid-afternoon lunch/dinner. If people are hungry between or after, they just forage for leftovers. So eat up."

Clarke didn't need to be told twice. She didn't actually remember when the last time she'd eaten was; dinner the night before, she guessed, and that felt like a very long time ago. Objectively, it was a pretty long time ago when she thought about it. She loaded up her plate, and the table was quiet except for the clinking of silverware against plates for a little while, until bellies stopped feeling quite so empty.

When her plate was about three-quarters empty, Madi sat up a straighter, shifting until one foot was underneath her to make herself a little taller. "Is Ontari really going to be okay?" she asked. "She said she was, but..." 

But they all knew that any time any of them got sick, there was a very real chance that they weren't going to get better. That if their goodbyes hadn't been said, they wouldn't get a chance to say them. Clarke nearly choked on a bite of French toast as her throat seized. 

"She's really going to be okay," Lexa assured her. "She's already out of the hospital."

Madi frowned. "Then why isn't she _here_?" she asked. 

Lexa smiled at her, reaching carefully across Clarke's place to take her hand and squeeze it. "Dr. Abby didn't think it would be a good idea for her to come, because she might still be contagious," she said. "But she said that she was well enough to leave the hospital."

"Is she at home then?" Madi asked, frowning. "I don't think her home can be very nice."

"Madi," Titus said. 

"What?" the little girl objected. "If her home was nice, then _she_ would be nice. People aren't mean for no reason!" 

"She's staying with my mom," Clarke said. "With Dr. Abby," she amended, in case it wasn't clear. "That way my mom can keep an eye on Ontari, but neither of them has to spend Christmas at the hospital." She forced a smile. "My mom will take very good care of her."

"Okay," Madi said, placated at least for the moment. Clarke smiled at her, her heart aching for this little girl who had already lost so much in her short life – first her family, although that might have happened when she was too young to remember them, but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of it, and then any number of friends along the way. Clarke would have to ask Lexa to know how many, but she wasn't going to do that, because she didn't want to upset her. However many Madi might have lost, Lexa had lost more, and she didn't need to be reminded of that. Not today. But just like all of that loss hadn't crushed Lexa, only made her stronger and more determined that things would be better for those who came after her, Madi's spirit seemed to be equally indomitable, and she was willing to extend her concern even to someone whose had gone out of her way to be unkind, probably more than once. 

Maybe Madi somehow saw that it was a mask Ontari wore, a front she put up to keep people at a distance... and now Clarke knew why, and there was no way for her to unknow it. 

After breakfast, they helped clear the table while the kids went back to the living room to play with their new toys. Clarke promised Madi that they would set up her new easel at the table in a little while, once everything was cleaned up, and sent her off to play a game with one of the other kids while she waited. 

"I hope you're telling the truth," Titus said, his tone almost an accusation, and directed more at Clarke than at Lexa. "It doesn't help them to lie to them."

"About Ontari?" Clarke asked. "Why would I lie?"

Titus scowled. "It's Christmas."

"She really is okay," Clarke said, "and she really is with my mom. If that's what you're worried about."

"How?" he demanded.

Clarke looked at Lexa, realizing that she didn't actually know what Lexa had told them about her own visit to the hospital, about the fact that she'd died and come back, and her subsequent miraculous recovery.

"Not now," Lexa told Titus. "I'll explain it all – or have Dr. Griffin explain it all – but not now. Like you said, it's Christmas. Let's enjoy it."

Titus didn't look pleased with being put off, which led Clarke to believe that Lexa hadn't told him anything, or just the bare minimum. She couldn't blame him for being disgruntled about being kept in the dark, but would it be possible to tell him what had happened with Ontari without bringing up the altercation with Nia, and what they had subsequently found out about Ontari's life with the woman? Maybe, but only with half-truths and evasions, and not saying anything had to be better than lying, didn't it? Under the circumstances? 

Judging from the violence with which Titus attended to the dishes, he might not have agreed, but Lexa wouldn't budge, and finally he seemed to give up on thinking she would break under the silence and spill everything. Given that he'd known Lexa for most of her life, he ought to have known better. 

With everything cleaned up, they went to spend more time with the kids while Titus, Gaia, and the other caregivers – staff or volunteers, Clarke wasn't sure – got to work on the next meal. Madi looked ready to abandon the game she was playing immediately when she saw Clarke, but Clarke convinced her to finish it; they had all afternoon. 

It was easy to lose track of time here; it seemed like she'd only just started explaining the basics of watercolor to Madi when they were forced to pack things up so that the table could be set again, but it had actually been several hours. She tried not to let herself yawn as they tucked the tubes of color back into their case and made sure that the brushes and palette were thoroughly rinsed, then found a safe space for their work to dry. 

"Yours is so much better than mine," Madi griped. "It actually _looks_ like something!"

"I have a lot more experience," Clarke pointed out. "This is your first time ever doing a watercolor. No one is perfect on their first try. Believe me, when I was your age, the paintings that I did didn't look _anything_ like the ones that I do now." 

"Do you still have them?" Madi asked.

"Some of them," Clarke said. "My mom kept some of them." 

"I want to see!" Madi said. 

"Maybe someday you will," Clarke said. "I'll ask my mom about bringing some of them here next time I come visit."

"Okay," Madi said. Her pleased smile faltered after a second. "Clarke?"

"What?"

"I need to ask you a very serious question, and I need you to tell me the truth. Not the 'it's Christmas and everyone should be happy' truth. The _real_ truth." Madi wrung her hands, twisting the fingers of the left with those of the right. "I need you to promise."

"I promise," Clarke said. She probably shouldn't have without knowing what the question was first, but she was pretty sure that if she didn't promise, she would never find out.

"Is Ontari really, _really_ going to be okay?" she asked. "Because if she's not going to be okay..." Madi didn't finish, but her throat bobbed like she was trying hard to swallow something painful. 

Clarke crouched down and took Madi's hands, pressing them between her own. "She is really going to be okay," she said. "She got very sick, but my mom took good care of her and made sure that she got the right medicine, and now she's much, much better." She looked Madi straight in the eye, wanting to make sure that she was as clear as possible. "I can't promise you that she'll never get sick again. I can't promise that nothing will ever happen to her. But right now, she is at home with my mom recovering, and she's going to be just fine." She let go of Madi's hands with one of her own, keeping hold of them with the other, and drew an X with her fingertip over her chest. "Cross my heart."

"Okay," Madi said. She pushed into Clarke's arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck, and Clarke could feel her shaking and feel dampness on her skin. 

"Oh babe," Clarke whispered, and picked her up, taking her to a quiet corner and settling into a squashy chair with her, rubbing her back and smoothing her hair. "I know. It's scary. I know." She let Madi cry, waving Lexa away when she started to come over, and finally the tears dried up. Clarke gave Madi a tissue for her wipe her eyes and blow her nose, and kept her arms around her when she snuggled into her chest. Clarke suspected Madi probably hadn't gotten much more sleep than she and Lexa had, although Madi's insomnia had likely been the result of excitement, not fear that they would wake up to find that they'd been wrong about Ontari's recovery, or that Nia had found a way to get in and steal her away again. 

"Do you want me to read you a story?" Clarke asked. 

"I can read," Madi said, perking up enough to make sure that her tone was appropriately indignant. 

"I know," Clarke said, trying not to laugh. "That doesn't mean that you can't be read to. If people ever got to be too old to be read to, audiobooks wouldn't be nearly as big a thing as they are." 

Madi turned this over in her head, and finally nodded. "Okay." She slid out of Clarke's lap to get one of the books she'd been given and came back. "Maybe just a chapter." She curled back up next to Clarke, handing her the book. 

Clarke flipped to the page where the story started and wrapped her arm around Madi as she read. "Chapter one..."

* * *

"By all means," Gaia said, "take as much as you want home with you." She gestured to the rather epic amount of food still left after their afternoon meal. Even with as many hungry kids as they'd been feeding, there was still enough that they would be eating leftovers for days. 

"Madi did promise Ontari that they would send her not-hospital food," Lexa said. "We wouldn't want to break that, even if she isn't actually eating hospital food."

"I don't know what my mom might have made," Clarke said, "or how good it would be. She did her best, but it was my dad who did most of the cooking. His work schedule was more flexible and less prone to emergencies, so he had more time." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to explain, to justify, but Lexa just nodded. 

"You can take some for her, too," Gaia said. "I'll get some containers. I trust you'll bring them back." She smiled at Lexa, who smiled back. Gaia was barely older than Lexa; it was clear that she hadn't been working here long. They seemed to regard each other more as friends than as caregiver and the one to which care was given. Patient, Clarke guessed, but Gaia wasn't a nurse or anything like that... at least not that Clarke knew of. She supposed it was possible; it would make sense to have someone with medical training on site. 

They packed up plenty of food to take home – enough for Ontari and Abby to make at least two meals, probably more – and tucked it away in the fridge with their names scrawled on them on strips of masking tape. "We should probably actually head home soon," Lexa said. "Check on everything..." 

"Make sure that Ontari hasn't driven my mother crazy?" Clarke joked. 

"Something like that," Lexa said. She was smiling, but there was something serious in her tone. 

"You were fine after," Clarke said softly. "We have no reason to believe that she won't be, too." 

"We don't know what that woman did to her," Lexa replied, her voice so low it was barely audible. "If she was willing to—" She stopped. "We only know what Ontari told us, and maybe she doesn't even know the whole of it." 

Clarke swallowed. "Her recovery tracks yours," she said. "If anything happened, my mom would have let us know."

"I know. I just..." Lexa sighed. 

"I know," Clarke said, even though she wasn't sure that she did. Was it possible for her to really understand what Lexa had been through, what she was going through now? She'd only just met these kids, and the idea of losing any of them was devastating. How much worse would it be if she'd grown up with them, known them their entire lives? "Let's go then." 

Easier said than done, it turned out, but Clarke had expected that. They had to say goodbye to all of the kids, and some of them (... Madi...) were less inclined to let them go than others. Even Aden had seemed bummed that they were leaving so soon; he just hid it better. 

"We'll come back," Lexa promised him, ruffling his hair. "We'll get your space cruiser built."

"It's the _Millennium Falcon_ ," Aden said. 

"Oh, is that what it's called?" Lexa teased. 

Aden just rolled his eyes, but Clarke noticed that he hugged Lexa a little longer and harder than she would have expected from a boy his age, who in her experience were averse to any kind of public display of affection from anyone who might be considered to be anything like an adult. 

"Please don't go," Madi said. 

"'We'll eat you up, we love you so,'" Lexa answered. She knelt down and pulled Madi into her arms. She whispered something in her ear that Clarke couldn't hear, then played like she was eating Madi up, making the girl squeal as Lexa's tickled her. 

"Do you promise?" Madi asked, after another whispered conference.

"I promise," Lexa said. "She won't like it, but I promise anyway."

"I don't care," Madi said. "She'll just have to learn to like it."

"Do you think she can?" Lexa asked. 

"I think we'll teach her," Madi said. 

"Okay." Lexa hugged her one last time, then went to the kitchen to retrieve their food to take home. 

Clarke crouched to Madi's level and hugged her, holding her as tight as she dared without risking crushing her again. "I didn't forget about asking my mom about those pictures," she said. "Next time."

"Soon?" Madi asked. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow," Clarke said, because her current plan for tomorrow involved spending as much of it as possible in bed, sleeping or otherwise. "But definitely soon. I'll talk to Lexa about it." She couldn't really see Lexa disagreeing with her plan; she was just as tired as Clarke was, and probably just as in need of reassurance that they were very much alive, and they were going to stay that way. 

"Okay," Madi said. "Did you want to take your picture with you?"

"Yes!" Clarke said. "Thank you for reminding me." It wasn't as done as she would like it to be, and her watercolor skills were a little rusty, but it would have to do. It was the best she'd been able to manage on short notice. She went and retrieved it, careful not to wrinkle the paper as they went through one last round of hugs before finally making it out the door.

They were quiet on the drive home, lost in their own thoughts or just too tired to force words past their lips. When Clarke glanced over at Lexa, she seemed to be all right; if her thoughts were troubling her, or if she was worried about what they might find when they got back to Clarke's, she didn't let it show. 

Clarke let them in, following the sounds of the TV to the living room, where Abby was sitting at one end of the couch and Ontari was at the other, tucked in under Clarke's favorite big fuzzy blanket. She had it drawn up all the way to her chin, idly brushing the velvety cloth against her cheek. She seemed to both straighten and shrink when she saw them, but she said nothing. 

"Hi sweetie," Abby said. "I wasn't sure if we were going to see you."

Clarke went over to her mother and leaned down to hug her. "Madi promised Ontari food," she said, "and trust me, there's plenty of it. And cookies. So many cookies."

"Are you hungry?" Lexa asked. Ontari shrugged, and Lexa sighed. "I'll take that as a yes," she said. "I'll go warm some up for you."

Ontari shrugged again, but Clarke saw how her eyes tracked Lexa as she headed for the kitchen. Her expression didn't give anything away. Clarke looked at her mom, eyebrows raised, and Abby smiled, shaking her head ever-so-slightly, as if to say, 'Teenagers. What can you do?'

"Are _you_ hungry?" Clarke asked. 

"I wouldn't say no if food was put in front of me," Abby said.

Clarke smiled back at her. "Right. Be right back." She followed Lexa to the kitchen and fixed her mother a plate. While it was in the microwave warming, she slid her arms around Lexa and leaned into her, brushing her lips against her neck, smiling when she was rewarded with a shiver and Lexa pulling her in closer, her hands at the small of Clarke's back drawing their hips together. Clarke lifted her head and their mouths met, lips parting and tongues meeting, the kiss demanding, insistent, until they were interrupted by the microwave's beeping. 

Clarke rocked back on her heels, swiping at her mouth to erase the traces of excess saliva, hoping her cheeks weren't as flushed as the rest of her body felt, but suspecting they were and that no one was going to be fooled. She grabbed the plates and Lexa filled two glasses with water, and they returned to the living room. 

"Thank you," Abby said, accepting the plate. "This looks delicious."

Ontari said nothing, just took the plate and fork and dug in. Had she been like this all day? Was she giving them the silent treatment for some reason, or did she just not have anything to say? Maybe she thought she'd already said too much, or that anything she said now might... Clarke didn't even know. Ontari had had a hell of a couple of days, though, so maybe she'd earned the right to a little quiet. 

They settled themselves into Clarke's father's favorite oversized chair. For a long time no one had sat in it, but with the couch full, they didn't really have much choice. It was barely wide enough for the two of them, but they made it work, leading to Ontari rolling her eyes when she looked at them. Clarke got the distinct feeling that if she hadn't had her mouth full, she would have made gagging noises. 

"When you're done, I'll give you your present," Lexa said. 

Ontari swallowed. "Aww, you shouldn't have," she said, tone dripping with sarcasm. Clarke fought back a smile. As obnoxious as it was, she was kind of glad that the girl's brush with death hadn't actually changed her all that much. It would have been disconcerting, to say the least, for her to have suddenly turned sweet and sincere. 

When Ontari put her plate aside, Lexa got up and retrieved Ontari's gift, handing the wrapped box to her. "The gift receipt is in there, so if you hate them, you can return them." 

Ontari frowned as she tugged on the ribbon, pushing it aside as she tore into the paper. The frown deepened as she lifted the lid of the oversized shoebox and she pulled out a silvery-gray velvet Doc Marten boot. She traced her fingers over the embossed brocade design on the sides. "I don't hate them," she said softly. 

"Good," Lexa said. "They had them in blue, too, but I thought silver was more your style." 

Ontari nodded. She swallowed, then bit her lip before saying, almost inaudibly, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lexa said. She went over and leaned down, putting her arms around Ontari and hugging her. Ontari stiffened and didn't return the gesture, just looked confused and slightly annoyed until Lexa let go. "That was from Madi," she said. "She made me promise to give it you even if you hated it."

Ontari screwed up her face like she was going to say something nasty, but then it smoothed out before she actually said anything. 

"I got you something too," Clarke said, "or I guess I should say I made you something." She got the painting she'd made earlier and brought it over to Ontari, who took it gingerly, like she thought it might turn on her and bite if she wasn't careful. Her eyebrows drew together as she studied it, searching the image like she didn't recognize it even though it was her own face. Maybe not an entirely accurate rendering, but Clarke had been working from memory, and not the recent memories of her sick, but of Ontari being well, bright-eyed and maybe a little taunting, like she had been at the skating party only weeks before, but it felt like a lifetime. 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Ontari asked. 

"Whatever you want," Clarke said. "Keep it, hang it up, throw it away, burn it..." She shrugged, mimicking Ontari's go-to gesture. "It's a gift. Once given, its fate is out of my hands."

"You wouldn't care if I just crumpled it up and threw it away? Right now?" 

Clarke saw her mother lean forward, like she might grab the picture away, but she held up her hand slightly to stop her. "I would be disappointed," Clarke said, "and I would think it was a little bit rude to do it front of my face instead of at least letting me have the illusion that I hadn't wasted my time, but you're under no obligation to keep it just for the sake of not hurting my feelings. There's no strings attached to it."

Ontari looked down at it again, as if she was checking to make sure, as if the strings were literal. "I don't think it looks very much like me," she said finally. 

"I'll try harder next time," Clarke said. 

"Whatever," Ontari said. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She took the shoebox and the painting and stalked off, the blanket trailing behind her as she took that with her, too. She disappeared up the stairs, and Clarke heard the door of the guest room click shut behind her. 

"I'm sorry," Lexa said, putting an arm around Clarke and kissing her temple. "I thought it was beautiful."

"It was," Abby said. "And I thought that it was a very good likeness."

Clarke smiled. "You don't have to try to make me feel better," she said. She wasn't actually offended by Ontari's comments, because she'd been watching her face as she'd looked at the picture, and she'd seen the way her expression had gone soft for a moment, too surprised, maybe, to hide the flash of genuine emotion she'd felt. She'd liked it, and she'd hated that she liked it, that it made her feel something. So she'd stuffed it down and turned up the attitude. 

"Is that what she's been like all day?" Lexa asked Abby. 

"She's mostly been quiet," Abby said. "She spent quite a while in her room. I'm not sure if she was napping or reading or what, but it seemed better to just give her some time and space. She seemed almost surprised when I invited her to come down." She sighed. "I get the feeling that she was left more or less to her own devices most of the time at home. If I had to guess, she was probably raised by nannies up to a certain point, and then left to fend for herself when she got too old, and the only people she interacted with face-to-face were members of the household staff. I don't think she has any idea what a home or family is supposed to be like, or how to be part of one."

"She'll get a crash course when she moves into the house with the others," Clarke said. "Unless..." She looked at her mother. "Nia got arrested, right? There's no way that she's going to somehow get Ontari back?"

"I don't know the details," Abby said, "but yes, she was arrested. From what I was told, she may have suspected that there was a chance Ontari would talk, because she was in the process of destroying the records of her... research." The last word came out like it tasted bad. 

"What does that mean?" Lexa asked. "If she destroys the evidence..."

"She wasn't able to get to all of it," Abby said, "and I am willing to bet that there are remote backups. You don't work on a project for over a decade and then just burn it all to the ground. They'll find it. She won't get away with this."

Clarke wished she felt more relieved, that she could share her mother's confidence. Maybe in time she would. For now, though, she could feel the tension in Lexa, born of concern for Ontari and anger at Nia, and probably other things besides. 

"I think maybe it's time for us to go to bed, too," Clarke said, pressing her knee into Lexa's. 

"Are you staying here, or...?" Abby asked.

"Lexa doesn't have any pajamas or clean clothes here," Clarke said. "So we'll probably head back to her place."

"All right," Abby said. "I should give you your gifts before you go." 

"I didn't—" Clarke had assumed they weren't bothering with gifts this year; they hadn't the year before. 

"It's all right," Abby said. "It's nothing big."

"All right," Clarke said. 

"I'm going to go say good night to Ontari," Lexa said. "Be right back." She pushed herself up, leaving Clarke feeling cold along the side of her body where Lexa had been pressed. 

Clarke accepted the gifts from her mother, unwrapping them slowly, not tearing the paper. Her father had always done that, insisting that they could reuse it if they were careful, but then they never did. Gift bags, sure, but not the paper. She found some art supplies and new clothes, and a gift certificate to one of Clarke's favorite restaurants, where her parents had always taken to celebrate special occasions. "I thought you might like to take Lexa on a proper date," she said. "With everything going on, it doesn't seem like you've had the chance, and you have plenty to celebrate."

Clarke's eyes filled with tears, and she threw her arms around her mother. "Thank you," she said. "I know you didn't want—"

"Shh," Abby said. "I know. I was wrong. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time, and everything, everything else is second to that."

It took Clarke a minute to get herself back under control, but by the time Lexa came back, her eyes were dry, if a little puffy. She forced a smile. "Ready to go?" she asked. 

"Yes," Lexa said. She smiled at Abby. "She's a good kid," she said. "Deep, deep down." 

Abby laughed. "I have a little experience with surly teenage girls," she said. "I think I'll be all right."

"If you need anything..." Lexa said. 

"We'll be fine," Abby assured her. "Go. Get some sleep." 

Clarke hugged her mother one more time and was surprised (but not really) when Lexa did the same. The drive to Lexa's apartment wasn't long, but it was long enough that Clarke started to drift off as they drove. By the time they got inside, they only had the energy to strip out of their clothes and collapse into bed. Clarke's lips met Lexa's once, and then she was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of posts last week. I was at Clexacon, and therefore had no time for writing!
> 
> Oh, and for anyone curious, [these are the boots Lexa got for Ontari](https://dmeszqrvxc7wa.cloudfront.net/images/product/new/medium/21614020.jpg).


	7. Chapter 7

Clarke woke with a start, lifting her head from the pillow to look around, searching for she wasn't sure what until her eyes landed on Lexa, blinking back at her. She sank back and rolled to face her, sliding her hand along the sheets until she found Lexa's wrist, wrapping her fingers around it and counting heartbeats while she waited for her own to steady.

"It's okay," Lexa said. "I'm right here. I'm alive." 

Clarke swallowed the metallic taste in the back of her throat – adrenaline – and nodded. When the last wisps of nightmare cleared away, she released her grip on Lexa and reached out to tuck back her hair from her face, tracing the tip of her finger along the curve of her ear, and then along her jaw before leaning in to kiss her softly... and then not so softly. 

Lexa's teeth grazed her lower lip, her hands coming up to Clarke's shoulders, and for long moments they struggled against each other, vying for the upper hand, both of them wanting to be the one calling the shots. There was nothing poetic or artful about it; hands clenched and fingers gripped, nails dug into soft flesh, sometimes hard enough to leave crescent indentations in their wake. They bit nearly as much as they kissed until their lips were swollen from it, their necks dotted with red marks that might or might not fade by morning. Lexa's hips ground against Clarke's, and she finally managed to push Clarke onto her back, Clarke's wrists pinned to the mattress on either side of her head as she pushed up against her. Lexa's thigh slid between her own and they moved against each other, pressure and heat and friction that wasn't enough. 

Clarke groaned, nipping at Lexa's earlobe until she lifted her head out of range and looked down at her. "Tell me what you want," Lexa said. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you to fuck me," Clarke growled, bucking her hips, trying (but not very hard) to shift Lexa. "I need your fingers inside me. I need you to make me come so hard I forget." 

Lexa stopped moving for a second, a hesitation that Clarke noticed but chose to ignore because she needed her nerves to be pushed to their limits, to overload, so that she could just stop thinking and just _be_ , even if it was only for a few minutes. 

And Lexa gave her that, her hand sliding between their bodies, doing exactly what Clarke said, fast and hard and relentless until Clarke shook her head, then nodded, trying to figure out what gesture would convey that it was enough, that she surrendered, that Lexa had won. 

Despite the mixed signals, Lexa took the hint and moved her hand away, but stayed with her weight half on top of Clarke, and Clarke didn't mind. It was comforting; it kept her grounded, reminded her that she was here, that they were both here, life throbbing beneath their skin everywhere they pressed against each other. 

"Tell me what you want," Clarke said when she'd recovered the powers of speech, her fingers already creeping over Lexa's hip and down her thigh. 

"To forget," Lexa whispered back, her voice slightly ragged and Clarke chalked it up to being breathless from kissing and other exertions. She wrapped her arms around Lexa and got one foot up under her hips, using it for leverage to push her up and over, working her way down her body, covering her skin quickly but thoroughly with kisses before wrapping her arms around her thighs and burying her face between her legs, diving deep with her tongue and letting the taste of her flood her mouth, not coming up for air until she'd felt the muscles of Lexa's legs go rigid and then relax, going limp in her grasp. 

It was only then that she realized that the sounds Lexa was making weren't of pleasure. At least they weren't purely that. 

She was crying. 

Not just the few stray tears leaking from the corners of her eyes that sometimes accompanied the relief and release that came with really good sex (which Clarke had become more than familiar with over the last few weeks), but barely held back sobs of distress. Clarke scrambled up, wiping her mouth hastily on the corner of the sheet before reaching for Lexa and pulling her in, nudging her until she rolled onto her side and pressing tight against her back, her arms wrapped around Lexa's chest, their bodies fitted so perfectly together it was like they were meant to be that way. 

"Shhh," Clarke whispered, her lips brushing the back of Lexa's shoulder, up where it shaded into her neck. "It's okay. You're okay." 

Lexa gripped Clarke's wrists, pulling her arms even more tightly around herself, tears flowing fast, her breathing rapid and ragged, and Clarke regretted that she'd positioned them so that she couldn't see Lexa's face, couldn't wipe her tears away, couldn't kiss her and make her forget like she'd asked.

"It's okay," she said, over and over again. "I'm here." For what it was worth, and maybe that wasn't much. What were they to each other? What was this? 

Now wasn't the time to think about it. 

"I'm sorry," Lexa finally gasped. "Clarke, I'm sorry..."

Clarke shook her head. "Don't be," she said. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I do!" Lexa rolled over, the motion sudden but careful so she didn't dislodge Clarke's arms from around her. She draped an arm around Clarke's waist, one long-fingered hand between her shoulder blades pulling her into an embrace that left no space between them, even their legs tangling so they couldn't be pulled apart... not that anyone was trying. 

"What?" Clarke asked. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I _died_!" Lexa said. "You were there, you saw—you had to see..." Fresh tears rose up and spilled over, and at least now Clarke could do something about it. Salt and despair filled her mouth as her lips brushed over Lexa's cheeks. 

"You came back," Clarke said. "You came back..." _... to me_ , but she couldn't say that part because she didn't know if it was true. She didn't know if Lexa coming back had anything to do with her at all, or if she'd chosen to step back from the brink because of the kids, or if it hadn't been a choice at all, if she'd been ready to go and then they'd yanked her back from whatever came next by a jolt of electricity through her chest. 

Now her own eyes were stinging, and Lexa reached up to trace the pad of her thumb under her eyelid. "I'm sorry," she whispered again. "You didn't... you barely knew me, and you were there. You came for me, and you stayed. You saved me..."

"I just got you to the hospital," Clarke said. "Really I didn't even do that, I just called 911, I didn't—"

"You saved me," Lexa repeated, her forehead pressed to Clarke's, too close for Clarke to really focus on her face as a whole, so her entire world was just Lexa's eyes, and she could lose herself in those green-blue pools, the color somehow heightened by the sheen of tears that blurred them. "If not for you—"

"Shhh," Clarke said, pressing her lips against Lexa's to stop her from saying anything more. She didn't want to hear it, _couldn't_ hear it right now. She didn't want to think about being anyone's savior, didn't want to think about the screech of the heart monitor as it signaled asystole, didn't want to think about another heartbeat stuttering to a stop under her fingers, no monitor to announce it to the world but she knew, she'd known, and—

She broke the kiss, burying her face against Lexa's neck to muffle the sound that tore from her throat, some animalistic mix of a sob, a scream, and a moan. Lexa stiffened with alarm, then tightened her grip on Clarke, crushing their bodies against each other so close they almost had to time their breaths to not keep each other from getting the oxygen they needed. 

"Tell me," Lexa whispered. "Clarke..."

"Ontari," Clarke gasped. "She—"

Sudden silence, stillness, the whole world stopped, and then—

"I know," Lexa said, the words a rasp that sounded painful. "I felt it too. I—" The words cut off like a valve had been twisted, throttling the flow and leaving only a deep, bitter ache that both of them felt and neither of them could contain, because what if this was how it worked, what if you had to die to live, what if...?

And now they were both crying, for themselves, for each other, for Ontari... for the other kids whose turns hadn't yet come, and what if...?

They clung to each other, not trying to hold back the tears any longer, crying until their chests ached and their throats were raw, until there were no more tears left to cry and they dried up, their breathing evened out, leaving Clarke – and she assumed Lexa – exhausted and wrung out but also somehow lighter. 

"I'm sorry," Lexa whispered again. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this."

"You didn't drag me anywhere," Clarke told her. "I came—" a soft laugh she couldn't help, "no pun intended – willingly, and I chose to stay. I choose to stay."

Lexa nodded, maybe accepting it or maybe just too tired to try to argue. Whichever it was, she was relaxed, her eyes closing to slits as her fingers wandered over Clarke's back and down her sides, then back up again, and Clarke couldn't help the sparks that flared under her skin in their wake, despite the fact that she could still feel her pulse between her thighs from the last round. She let Lexa do what she wanted, touch where she wanted, melted into her when their mouths met, slow sloppy kisses that smoldered, then ignited. 

It was slow, almost agonizingly so, but when they finally got there it was like Clarke shattered and broke open, and when her pieces knitted back together it was with some part of Lexa inside of her... and she thought she knew which part. She certainly knew the part of herself that Lexa had kept. Not stolen, because Clarke had surrendered it freely, and if there would be consequences, they were a problem for another day.

* * *

When she woke again, the other side of the bed was empty, and her heart thudded against her ribcage as she scrambled out of bed, dragging the blankets with her so she didn't have to try to find clothes. "Lexa?"

"In here," Lexa called from the kitchen, coming to the door and poking her head out. Relief flooded through Clarke so suddenly that it left her knees slightly wobbly. "I thought – hoped – you would sleep longer. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast."

"Do you want me to get back in bed?" Clarke asked. 

"No," Lexa said, "because then all I'll be able to think about is you in bed, and I'll get distracted and I might burn the pancakes."

Clarke laughed. She wrapped the blanket around herself more securely and closed the short distance between them (the apartment wasn't overly large) and kissed Lexa softly. "Why don't I go get dressed, then, and come back?"

Lexa stuck out her lower lip. "Then I'll just have to take them off you again," she said. 

"Isn't that part of the fun?" Clarke asked. She let her gaze sweep down Lexa's body – the oversized long-sleeve tee and the boxers she'd thrown on, leaving long expanses of leg exposed, and how she wasn't cold Clarke wasn't sure but she wouldn't mind warming her up later – and back up, grinning. When she reached Lexa's face, she was pleased to see a faint pink glow to her cheeks. She kissed her again. "I'll be right back."

Lexa pouted but didn't try to stop her. Clarke found a pair of discarded pajama bottoms – she wasn't sure what day they were from – and a tank top, and layered it with one of Lexa's flannels, leaving it unbuttoned so that Lexa would have a view of the low-cut scoop of the tank's neck. She sent a quick text message to her mother checking in and returned to the kitchen, where Lexa was spooning batter into a pan and then sprinkling a mixture of chocolate chips and nuts of some kind over them while the batter was still gooey. 

Clarke went to the cabinet and got out two plates and cups, then grabbed some silverware, setting two places at the tiny table that occupied one corner. "Coffee or tea?" she asked. "And should I make eggs?"

"Tea," Lexa said, "and yes. Thank you."

They worked side-by-side, and Clarke refused to let herself think about the fact that this wasn't going to last forever, that the time they had together was limited and already starting to draw to a close. She didn't know when Lexa went back to school – they hadn't talked about it, and Clarke didn't know if it was deliberate on Lexa's part, but it certainly was on hers – but her own classes started again right after the long weekend for Martin Luther King Jr.'s Day. Which still left them a few weeks of... their honeymoon? What was this? ... before reality set back in. 

"Voila," Lexa said, depositing a stack of pancakes onto Clarke's plate. "My famous coconut-chocolate-pecan pancakes, topped with a caramel drizzle!"

"Are they really famous, or are you just saying that?" Clarke teased. 

"You'll have to ask Madi," Lexa said with a smirk that made Clarke want to lean across the table and kiss it off her face. 

Clarke pressed the side of her fork into the fluffy stack, cutting off a bite-sized piece and popping it into her mouth... and tried not to moan as the flavor hit her tongue. If they weren't famous, they should have been. They were light and fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness, a hint of bitterness from the dark chocolate of the chips, and then the crunch of the nuts... "Oh my god..."

Lexa grinned. "Told you," she said, digging in to her own breakfast. 

They cleaned their plates, and then they cleaned the kitchen, a slow process because they kept getting... distracted. They finally ended up in the shower, having ended up inexplicably covered in smudges of chocolate and caramel, and this time they didn't hold back when their minds... and fingers... and mouths... wandered from the task at hand. As far as Clarke was concerned it was only by pure luck that they managed to stumble out of the tub again without mishap... her legs felt like rubber, her insides warm Jell-O... as she toweled off and stumbled to the bedroom to find clean clothing to wear. 

"We should probably make the bed," she said sheepishly, looking at the heap of blankets on the floor where she'd left them after using them as an impromptu dressing gown. 

"The sheets were probably due for a change anyway," Lexa admitted, pressing her lips together to hold back a smile. Clarke felt her cheeks and the tips of her ears go warm. Lexa wasn't wrong; even though Clarke had changed them before Lexa got back from the hospital, the sheets – and the whole room, really – were redolent with sex. 

So they stripped the bed and made it again, thankfully still too wrapped in the afterglow of their shower shenanigans to be tempted to mess it up again immediately. While Lexa went to start the washer, Clarke checked her phone. 

**Mom:** Hi sweetie. Everything is fine here. I'm sure Ontari will come out of her room eventually. 

Then, a little while later:

**Mom:** What kind of kid says no to pancakes?

And not long after that:

**Mom:** That didn't last long.

Clarke checked the time on the message. Only a few minutes ago. She quickly sent a message back.

**Clarke:** What didn't last long? Is everything still okay?

The dots indicating her mother was typing popped up almost immediately. 

**Mom:** Sorry. The no to pancakes didn't last long. I went up and asked if she wanted some and she said no, and I said okay, if she changed her mind I was making them anyway. A few minutes later she came downstairs, and although they aren't anywhere near as good as your father's, she seems happy enough.

Clarke felt a pang at the mention of her father, but it wasn't as sharp as she might have expected, especially given the time of year. She wondered if she would ever not miss him.

Lexa came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, propping her chin on Clarke's shoulder. Clarke leaned back against her, soaking in the warmth of her, drawing strength and comfort from the touch. "Everything okay?" Lexa asked. "You looked—"

"Everything's okay," Clarke said, and meant it. "My mom just mentioned my dad, that's all." 

Lexa's arms tightened around her, just a little, and Clarke turned her head to brush her lips against Lexa's cheek. She typed out a message to her mother, showing it to Lexa before hitting Send.

**Clarke:** We had pancakes too, and I hate to say it, but Dad has nothing on Lexa.

Her mother's response was the shocked emoji, followed by the laughing one. Then the three dots popped up... and disappeared... and popped up again... and disappeared again. Finally, after far longer than it would have taken to actually type, a message came through. 

**Mom:** He would be happy to know that. 

Clarke squeezed her eyes shut, because this time the words cut deep, and she knew her mother hadn't meant for them to hurt her; she was sure that she'd actually intended the opposite. She wanted Clarke to know that Dad would have been happy that she was happy, that even if he wasn't there, she had someone who cared for and about her as much as he had. 

She wiped her eyes quickly.

**Clarke:** Thank you. 

There was no response, but what was there to say? Clarke turned and rested her forehead on Lexa's shoulder, and they just held each other for a few minutes until the ache in her chest had dulled back to a level that she could mostly ignore. 

"Ontari's okay," she told Lexa when she finally lifted her head again. "Mom lured her out with pancakes."

"Good," Lexa said. "Hopefully she'll behave herself. I maybe not-so-gently reminded her last night that your mother didn't need to offer to let her stay, and she needs to be respectful." 

Clarke shook her head slightly. "You didn't need to do that," she said. "Mom knew what she was getting into." 

"Even so," Lexa said. "She doesn't need to cause trouble just for the sake of creating chaos." 

"Do you think she does it just to do it?" Clarke asked. "Or is she doing it for attention?"

"Is there a difference?" Lexa asked.

"I think so," Clarke said. "If she was doing it just for its own sake, just to create chaos... that seems almost sociopathic. If she's doing it to get attention... that makes more sense, given what we know about what her life has been. If the only time anyone pays attention to you is when they want to experiment on you or when you're in trouble, wouldn't you make trouble, too? Even bad attention is better than no attention."

"Is it?" Lexa asked. She frowned. "I guess I've never really been in a situation where no one was paying attention to me, unless that was the way I wanted it to be. Growing up in a house with a bunch of other kids..." Her eyes went wide. "I need to tell Luna."

Clarke looked at her, frowning. "Who's Luna?"

"Ontari calls me the oldest living dead girl," Lexa said. 

"I think it's actually the oldest dead girl walking," Clarke said. 

Lexa rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "Whatever it is," she said, "it's not true. Not completely. There's also Luna. She's a few months older than me and, as far as I know, still alive."

"Did I meet her?" Clarke asked. "At the party?"

Lexa shook her head. "No," she said. "She wasn't at the party. She..." Lexa sighed. "Both she and her brother were born with Pramheda's. He was younger, but he died first. The next day, she disappeared. I convinced Titus not to send the police after her; I assumed that she would come back when she was ready, and she was smart enough to keep out of trouble until then. She didn't – come back, I mean – but I finally managed to track her down, and she'd found somewhere safe to stay and she was happy, so... I let it go. I let her go. I don't talk to her often; even though we're over eighteen now and they can't legally do anything, I think she's still worried that somehow she'll get dragged back into everything, and she doesn't want to watch anymore children die. That's why she told me she left."

"But now there's a cure," Clarke said. 

"A possible cure," Lexa corrected. "Pending further research on long-term efficacy. But there's a chance, and she should know."

"Do you have her number?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa shook her head. "She's off the grid," Lexa said. "No phone."

"Then how did you talk to her?"

"Email," Lexa said. "So, okay, _mostly_ off the grid. But even if I had the kind of computer skills I would need to trace her location, I'm pretty sure she took steps to protect against that." 

"So send her a message," Clarke said. "If she's old enough to consent to her own treatment, there's nothing to stop Mom from giving it to her as soon as she can get here to get it."

Lexa sighed. "I don't know if she will," she said. "She doesn't really trust doctors. They couldn't save her brother, after all."

"But you have to try, right?" Clarke asked. "At least give her the option."

Lexa nodded. She grabbed her phone and quickly typed out a message, her thumbs flashing across the screen. Clarke couldn't see what she was writing, but it couldn't have been a very long message, because it was only a few minutes before she heard the swooshing sound of a message being sent off into the ether. 

"Think we should go to my Mom's and check on small, dark, and surly?" Clarke asked. 

"Probably," Lexa said. "Once the sheets are in the dryer we'll go."

"What are we going to do until then?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa grinned. "I can think of a thing or two..."

* * *

The days slid by, slowly and too quickly all at once. They woke up together and made breakfast and made love (the order being subject to change depending on who woke up first and how they were feeling) and showered (together, more often than not, and Clarke was sure that they were tempting fate but so far there had been no injuries) and cleaned whatever needed cleaning before going to check on her mom and Ontari to make sure that neither of them had killed the other in their sleep. They struggled to keep their hands off each other (although they didn't fight the urge very hard most of the time) and tumbled into bed (or onto or against whatever surface was readily available) multiple times a day most days, including once in Clarke's room at her mom's house when they got there and found no one else home, feeling like they were getting away with something illicit, racing against time to finish before Abby and Ontari got back, and then acting as if they hadn't been up to anything when they did get home. No one was fooled, but they could pretend. And the looks that Ontari gave them were pretty epic, which, if Clarke was being honest, was part of the fun. Sometimes they went to visit the kids at the house, keeping them busy for a few hours to give their caretakers some respite from the non-stop activity punctuated with complaints of boredom that typified a school break. Clarke drew and painted with Madi and built LEGOs with Aden, and she was surprised by how fast the time went.

And in the quiet moments, when they were soft and sated and there was nothing that needed to be done, nowhere they needed to be, they talked. They talked about anything and everything that popped into their heads... except the fact that every night when they went to sleep wrapped around each other, it brought them one day closer to the day that this would be over. They didn't talk about that, as if ignoring that fact would somehow make it go away. 

A week passed that way, and Clarke sat on the edge of their bed – when had she started thinking of it was _their_ bed instead of Lexa's? – and watched Lexa dress for the New Year's Eve party that they had been invited to. Nothing too dressy, because it was at the house with the kids, which meant that she was going to end up on the floor, or hugged by someone with sticky hands, but a little nicer than just jeans and a flannel, which was what she wore most days when they finally bothered to get dressed. 

"We need to go soon," Lexa said, catching her eye in the mirror. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to go in that." She eyed the bathrobe that Clarke wore, and maybe Clarke was imagining it, but she got the feeling that Lexa was thinking about what was underneath it more than the robe itself.

"You're no fun," Clarke said. 

"I'm plenty of fun," Lexa countered, "but not right now. We need to get Ontari before we go." 

"Right," Clarke said. She heaved a sigh. "Fiiiiine." 

Lexa turned around and pulled her into a kiss. "I'll make it worth your while," she said. "Later."

Clarke stuck out her tongue, but she got dressed. "I wonder if the kids will recognize me in something other than an ugly Christmas sweater," she joked. She'd continued to raid her father's stash every time they'd gone to visit, because it made Madi laugh every time she wore a new one. 

"I guess we'll find out," Lexa said. "You look amazing." 

"I'm pretty sure you're biased," Clarke said, "but thank you. So do you."

"I _know_ you're biased," Lexa said, and they were a few minutes late getting out of the door, having had to take the time to get their hair back in order after grasping fingers that accompanied heated kisses tumbled it into disarray.

* * *

"What's all that?" Lexa asked, looking at the bags at Ontari's feet when they arrived. 

"My stuff," Ontari said. "The cops still haven't let me into the damn house to get most of it, but it's what you packed for me, and what Abby gave me. She said I could keep it." Her tone was defensive, her eyes narrowed. 

"Right," Lexa said, "but why are you—"

"Isn't that why you're here?" Ontari asked. "To bring me over there?"

"For the New Year's Eve party," Lexa said. "You told the kids – Madi – back on Christmas that you would come see them when you were better. Abby said that she was confident that you're no longer contagious, so we thought—"

"So you're not taking me to live there?" Ontari asked. "I thought that was the plan. I thought that I was staying here for the holidays, or until I was healthy enough that I wouldn't possibly kill the bratlings, and then I would go live there, since I'm not allowed to go the fu—to go home. So if Abby says—"

"Hold on," Clarke said. "Just... give me a minute." She stepped past Ontari and her baggage – the figurative taking up just as much if not more space than the literal – and went to find her mom. Her car was in the driveway, so she knew she was home. 

She found her in the laundry room, unable to hear the conversation happening in the entryway over the sound of the water filling the washer. "Mom?"

"Oh! Hi sweetie," Abby said, reaching for her and hugging her before Clarke realized what was happening. It was a little awkward, because they hadn't really been hugging people after her father died, or maybe even before that, but her mother seemed to have developed a penchant for it in the last few weeks. "What's wrong?"

"Ontari," Clarke said, and then held up her hands to stop her mother from running out of the room as she instantly assumed the worst and went into doctor mode. "Nothing like that. She's fine. She's just... packed? She thought we were coming to take her to live at the house with the other kids, which... is that the plan?"

"Oh," Abby said. "I mean, I guess eventually that's the plan, but I didn't think she would be going tonight."

"I guess she was under the impression that whenever she was healthy enough, she would go, and you said she's healthy enough, so she's packed and ready," Clarke said. 

"Oh," Abby repeated. "If that's what she wants, then yes, she's healthy enough to make that move." There was something pinched in her expression, like she wasn't sure that it was the best idea, and Clarke couldn't help agreeing. The more time she spent with the kids, the more she wondered if it was a place where someone like Ontari would ever really fit. "We didn't really talk about it."

"Maybe you should come then," Clarke said. "Just to check in or whatever." 

"Of course." Abby followed her back to the front of the house, where Lexa was making a largely unsuccessful effort to not look like she wanted to throttle Ontari, and Ontari was glaring back at her, silently antagonizing her, trying to provoke a response. Abby looked back and forth between them and Clarke could see the effort that it took for her not to sigh. "Can we talk for a minute?" Abby said, reaching for Ontari's arm but not quite touching it. 

"What for?" Ontari asked. "I'm leaving. I'm not your problem anymore."

"It will only take a minute," Abby said. "Please."

Ontari crossed her arms over her chest, staring down at her bags for a second, but finally she grunted and followed Abby into the living room, far enough away that Clarke and Lexa couldn't hear them, and a wall blocked them from being able to see most of what went on. 

"What's she doing?" Lexa asked. 

"I don't know," Clarke admitted. 

When they came back a few minutes later, some of the fight had gone out of Ontari. She picked up her bags and carried them back up the stairs. While she was gone, Abby explained, "I told her that although she is healthy, I still want to monitor her condition, and it's easier to do that if she stays a little while longer," she said. She smiled. "It seemed easier than getting her to admit that she's not sure about the prospect of moving, or even trying to convince her that as far as I'm concerned, there's no rush for her to leave. I'm happy to have her here as long as she's happy being here."

Ontari came back down and put on her coat. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled, yanking open the door and heading for the car. Lexa rolled her eyes but followed her out, unlocking the doors so that Ontari could slouch into the back seat. 

"Does she have a curfew?" Clarke asked her mom, grinning. 

"I'm pretty sure she turns into a pumpkin around 1 am," Abby said, "but as long as she's with you, bring her home whenever you – or she – is ready."

Clarke nodded and hugged her mom. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, sweetie," Abby said, and waved to them until they were out of sight.

* * *

To say that Ontari didn't fit in with the rest of the kids was, it turned out, an understatement. Within half an hour of their arrival, she had managed to upset at least three of the kids – one by knocking into and accidentally destroying their very precarious Tinker Toy (or something similar) construction (and refusing to apologize, naturally), one by refusing to play a game with them, and the third by, when shown a drawing, saying, "Okay, but what is it?" (A question you never asked a young child – safer to tell them that you love it, and then ask them to tell you about it so that you don't guess wrong and insult them.)

Even Madi looked like she regretted the fact that she'd insisted that Ontari come. "Why does she have to be so mean?" she asked Lexa. "It doesn't cost anything to be kind." Which sounded like something that she'd probably had repeated to her ad nauseum over the years, but it wasn't wrong. 

"I know," Lexa said. "I think she's just overwhelmed. Too many people, too much noise. She's used to things being much quieter." 

Madi didn't look impressed by the explanation, but she let it go. Instead, she went and found a pair of earmuffs and offered them to Ontari to help make it a little quieter. Clarke watched as Ontari's face twitched, and for a second she thought she was going to say something nasty. If she did, Clarke decided, she would leave Lexa here and take Ontari back to her mom's, and then come back to rejoin the party. But after a tense couple of seconds, Ontari just said, "Thanks," and put them on, and eventually found a deck of cards and sat in the corner playing solitaire until Aden challenged her to a game of War. 

When midnight rolled around, a couple of the kids had to be woken up from where they'd passed out. Those that were still awake were either bouncing off the walls or struggling not to crack their jaws from yawning. Plastic flutes of sparkling grape – or maybe it was apple – juice were passed around, and as the ball dropped they shouted, "Happy New Year!" and hugged each other (Ontari even let Madi get her into what resembled a chokehold for a second) and made grossed out noises when they saw that Clarke and Lexa were kissing, before Titus and the other caretakers began to shuffle them off to bed.

Clarke and Lexa waited by the stairs to hug them all as they went up, with Madi bringing up the end of the line and clinging just a little harder for a little longer. Clarke finally gave up on prying her loose and carried her up the stairs, promising to wait outside the bathroom while she peed and brushed her teeth. She scooped her back up when she came out and followed Madi's directions to her room. The walls were covered in all of the drawings and paintings she'd done over the past week, as well as some from before, and a number of ones that Clarke had done that Madi had insisted on keeping. Her pajamas were laid out at the foot of her tightly made bed, and Clarke waited while she changed and crawled in under the covers. 

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," Clarke said, tickling her gently through the blankets. 

"You should... just... stay..." Madi said, the words garbled by a huge yawn. "There's room..." 

It was a twin bed, so there really wasn't, but Clarke didn't say that. She just pushed back Madi's hair from her face and kissed her forehead. "I can't," she said. "Lexa would be lonely."

"Oh yeah," Madi said. She blinked slowly. "Do you love her?"

"Yes," Clarke said. 

"Even though she's sick?"

"She got better," Clarke said.

Madi frowned. "This time. But maybe next time..."

"We'll worry about next time next time," Clarke said. "Sweet dreams, Madi."

"Mmm," Madi answered, her eyes finally drooping all the way shut. Clarke squeezed her hand before tucking it under the blankets, then switched off the light and went back downstairs. 

"She's out?" Lexa asked. Clarke nodded. 

"Good," Ontari said. "Can we _go_ already?"

They drove her back to Abby's, and she stomped up the stairs immediately. Abby watched her, then looked at them. "How did it go?" she asked. Clarke shook her head, and her mom nodded, understanding without Clarke saying a word. "Okay," she said. "You two have a good night."

They fell into bed as soon as they got back to the apartment, kissing slowly, lazily, not really going anywhere. Clarke's thoughts drifted to the barely averted disaster that was Ontari, and then to Madi, and...

"I love you," she told Lexa. "I haven't said it, but I hope—"

"I love you too," Lexa replied. "Almost from the beginning..."

Clarke kissed her again, and again, and Lexa had promised she would make waiting worth the while, and, she was nothing if not a woman of her word.

"I love you," Clarke said again, after, as sex and sleep eroded her filters and left her emotions stripped bare. "I love you, always until the end."


	8. Chapter 8

After New Years the kids went back to school (they attended a small private school with a strict policy about attending while sick, which allowed them to socialize with children outside of their immediate circle while still limiting their exposure to germs) which left Clarke and Lexa with more free time. They didn't spend it _all_ in bed (although sometimes it was tempting). Instead, they explored the city, showing each other their favorite places from the past and discovering new favorites together. Clarke took Lexa out to dinner with the gift card her mother had given her, her stomach fluttering with nerves – it was their first official date, after all – as they were seated. She wasn't even sure what she was worried about; she was happier with Lexa than she'd been in any of her other relationships, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. 

Maybe it was the fact that it _was_ their first official date. Key word: official. By dressing up (makeup and heels and everything) and going out together, formally, it felt like they were making a declaration. This wasn't just a fling, something that they would enjoy for the break and then return to their quote-unquote real lives. This was... more. 

This was so much more.

But in less than two weeks, they would both have to go back to school, and what would happen then? They still hadn't talked about – had maybe been avoiding talking about it – and as their appetizers were set in front of them, it was all that Clarke could think about. 

"This is delicious," Lexa said, "I can see why this was your go-to place for celebrations." 

Clarke forced a smile. "It only gets better," she said. "Just wait until dessert."

Lexa's mouth quirked and her eyes sparkled, and Clarke knew that she wasn't thinking about cake or pastries in that moment. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, but her smile was a little more genuine now. " _Not_ what I meant," she said. "They make an amazing caramel lava cake. Like the chocolate one, but salted caramel, with ice cream on the side, and—"

"You don't have to convince me," Lexa said. "You had me at caramel." She reached across the table, resting her fingers lightly on Clarke's. "Just say it," she said softly. "Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me."

Clarke shook her head. "Let's just have a nice dinner."

Lexa's fingers curled away from hers and she looked down at her plate for a second before looking back up, her expression now grim. "I'm not sure I can now," she admitted. "Not knowing that whatever it is that's bothering you is something that you think will ruin dinner if we talk about it."

"I don't know if it will or not," Clarke said. "It might not." 

"We won't know unless you say it," Lexa pointed out. 

_I've already ruined it,_ Clarke thought. _It doesn't matter what the answer is, because I've already ruined it._ Which seemed to be the story of every relationship she'd been in. Somehow, at some point, she always managed to wreck things. It wasn't intentional (she didn't _think_ it was intentional) but it was inevitable. 

"Please, Clarke," Lexa said, something far too close to fear in her voice. Clarke wanted to get up and put her arms around her, holding her tight until she wasn't scared anymore, but she couldn't. Not because they were in a restaurant, but because she couldn't just hug and kiss away the damage that she'd done. Lexa wasn't a little kid with bumped head or a scraped knee. She was...

"Where do you go to school?" Clarke asked, ripping off the Band-Aid. "We've never—"

"Tondisi," Lexa said. "It's about an hour from here. I didn't—"

"Arkadia!" Clarke blurted, a little too loud. "It's—"

"I know where it is," Lexa said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Not quite in the same direction, but it's not too far."

"No," Clarke said. "It's not too far. And we've both got cars, so..."

"So we can see each other even when we're at school," Lexa finished for her. "Not every day, but weekends. Maybe occasionally during the week..." 

"And—" Clarke stopped herself, not wanting to push things too far, too fast, and yet... was there a such thing when they'd been living together for most of the break? 

"And...?" Lexa prompted. Her fingers had found Clarke's again, lacing together and holding tight.

"Maybe next year we could find somewhere in between and," Clarke licked her lips, her heart pounding, "and commute. If your school doesn't require you to live on campus for the first two years or something." It would mean a drive of 20 minutes, maybe more, for each of them to get to their schools, but it would also mean that they could wake up together every morning, go to sleep together every night, cook meals together, video chat with the kids together... 

"It doesn't," Lexa said. "Titus didn't want me living in the dorms at all, but I insisted. I wanted that experience. I wanted to feel like a real college student. The only thing that convinced him was that I was able to get a single room for medical reasons." She swallowed, looked up at Clarke, her fingers tightening. "Really, I just didn't want to traumatize someone if their roommate suddenly died on them." 

This time Clarke did get up and go to her, put her arms around her (a little awkwardly because she was sitting) and pressed her cheek to Lexa's. "You're not going anywhere," she said. "You're not dying on anyone." 

"Again," Lexa said, a little too seriously to be a joke, but not so seriously that Clarke couldn't smile in response. 

"Right," Clarke said. "You're not dying on anyone again." She turned Lexa's head to kiss her lightly, then went back to her seat. "Trust me, having a roommate isn't all it's cracked up to be." She grinned. She'd told Lexa a little bit about Octavia, mostly because she'd had to explain who was blowing up her phone without there being an actual emergency. (Octavia was bored at home and her over-protective older brother was driving her crazy. Clarke was, she claimed, her only link to the outside world.) 

Lexa laughed and rolled her eyes. "How would you feel if you were trapped at home with no one to hang out with but your mother and your alleged best friend dropped off the face of the planet?" she teased. 

"Yeah, yeah," Clarke said, waving her hand dismissively. "She's just being melodramatic. I haven't _completely_ disappeared. I text her back when I have a minute." They were momentarily distracted by the arrival of their entrees, quiet descending while they took their first bites. Clarke took a moment to appreciate the look on Lexa's face; she was clearing enjoying the food. 

She was trying to think of something other than roommates to talk about when a jolt of realization hit her. She looked up at Lexa. "Did your friend ever get back to you?"

Lexa shook her head. "Not yet." She looked down, gripping her utensils a little too hard. "I've been trying to convince myself that it doesn't mean anything, that she just... hasn't checked her email or she doesn't want to respond, but—"

"Why wouldn't she want to respond?" Clarke asked. "We have what is very possibly a cure, and—"

"We don't know for sure, though," Lexa said. "Maybe she doesn't want to take a chance on something that's not a sure thing. Maybe she would rather wait until we know if there are any side effects, or—"

"Side effects may include a significantly increased life span and the ability to mingle with the general populace without the need for a HazMat suit." It wasn't funny, and Clarke regretted saying it as soon as it was out of her mouth. 

"You don't know her," Lexa said. "Maybe..." She sighed. "Maybe I don't either. Because even if she didn't want to get involved with all of us again..." She stopped, her forehead furrowed even as she tried to smile. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Of course," Clarke said. She didn't apologize for bringing it up, because she knew that Lexa wouldn't want her to feel guilty about it. She hadn't meant any harm in asking, and she knew that Lexa knew that. But whether or not she'd meant it, she'd _done_ harm. Again. How could Lexa not spend the rest of the meal thinking about the fact that the most likely reason Luna hadn't gotten back to her was because she was already dead? "What are you in school for?" 

"Undecided," Lexa said. "I didn't want to possibly take someone's spot in a specific program when—" She shrugged. "I guess I'll have to figure that out now." She gave Clarke a shaky smile. "There are worse things." After taking another bite, chewing slowly, swallowing, she asked, "Have you always wanted to be a doctor?"

Clarke nodded. "Pretty much. I wanted to help people, and it seemed like a good way to do it." She lifted one shoulder, let it fall. "I didn't even consider the fact that there are plenty of other ways to help people. I guess I just always admired my mom and wanted to follow in her footsteps."

"What about your dad?" Lexa asked. "If that's—is it okay for me to ask about him?"

"It's okay," Clarke said. "He was an environmental engineer. What he did helped people too, but it wasn't as interesting to me, I guess. Maybe it was just that I was able to connect with him over other things. He fit himself into my life, whereas I had to fit myself into my mother's." She'd never actually managed to articulate before the difference between her relationship with her father versus her mother, and suddenly she was questioning whether the only reason that she'd decided so many years ago that she wanted to be a doctor was because she thought it was the only way her mother was ever really going to see her. 

Which didn't mean she didn't want to be a doctor... did it? 

"Are you okay?" Lexa asked. "You went... far away for a second there."

"I'm not sure," Clarke said. "I feel like I just burst my own bubble."

Lexa frowned. "What do you mean?"

Clarke shook her head. "I'd rather not talk about it just yet," she said. "I need to think more before I try to put it into words."

"That's fair," Lexa said. "You need to decide what you think and feel before that gets potentially influenced by what someone else thinks and feels."

"Exactly," Clarke said. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," Lexa said.

"Is that what we are?" Clarke asked. "Friends?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "It's not the only thing that we are, but I, at least, consider us to be friends." She tipped her head, looking at Clarke. "Don't you?"

"I do!" Clarke said. "Of course I do." She smirked and batted her eyes at Lexa, an outrageous imitation for flirting. "What _else_ do you consider us?"

Lexa laughed. "Lovers," she said, her voice low so people around them couldn't overhear and take offense. "Girlfriends. So—" She cut herself off, her cheeks flooding with color. 

Clarke didn't ask. She wanted to, but she didn't. "That's a good list," she said. "I approve."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lexa said. 

They turned their attention back to their food, trying to keep the conversation light, talking about people they knew at school and the classes they were taking next semester, a little about the kids but not too much because even that was a potentially fraught topic. When the waiter came back they ordered dessert, and Clarke enjoyed watching Lexa's face as she took the first bite of the promised caramel lava cake. The sound she made as it hit her tongue made something twist in Clarke's belly, warmth spilling through her, and suddenly she couldn't wait for the meal to be over. 

"You were right," Lexa said when she opened her eyes again. "You were so right."

"I usually am," Clarke replied airily.

Lexa laughed. "And ever so humble."

"My humility is definitely one of my best qualities," Clarke said. "Not that I have many bad ones." She winked, and she thought for a second Lexa might actually ball up her napkin and toss it at her. Instead she just stuck out her tongue. 

"Don't do that unless you plan to use it," Clarke warned. 

Lexa's cheeks warmed again, and something kindled in her eyes. "Is that a challenge?" she asked. 

"Do you want it to be?" Clarke returned.

* * *

They barely made it in through the door before Lexa was yanking at her clothes, reaching up under her skirt to tear down her stockings (and Clarke was pretty sure that they _did_ tear, but she couldn't bring herself to be bothered) and her panties with them, rucking her skirt up around her hips as she dropped to her knees. 

"Oh god," Clarke groaned as she felt Lexa's breath against her thighs, kissing and nipping. She kicked off her heels because there was no way she was going to be able to keep her balance, not if this was really happening, and the abrupt change in height brought the crux of her legs down to Lexa's mouth like she'd planned it that way. She felt Lexa's lips against her, felt them part and then her tongue slid out and flicked over her clit, circling around the aching nub of flesh. Lexa lifted one of her feet to unhook her stocking and panties, allowing her to spread her legs wider, and Clarke's head tipped back so far it hit the wall as Lexa took the opportunity to lick over the slick flesh, sucking gently before going back to the light teasing flicks that she knew drove Clarke crazy... but in a good way. In the best way, as long as she didn't drag it out too long...

Lexa seemed to sense her mood, but then of course she did. When had she ever failed to decipher the signals that Clarke's body was giving her? Her hands gripped Clarke's hips, pulling her in so that she was grinding against her tongue, and she could feel Lexa moaning, the vibrations another sensation as she headed quickly for the peak. A quick shift of one hand to the small of her back and the other made its way between her thighs. Two of Lexa's long fingers slid into her, crooking slightly, and Clarke's head rocked back and forth against the wall as she was going, going... and gone. 

Lexa caught her before she could fall, standing and getting her arms around her to support her as her knees turned to jelly. Clarke's breathing was ragged against Lexa's skin, and she brushed her lips against her throat, the faint sheen of sweat there because Lexa hadn't even taken off her own coat before getting down to business. 

"Challenge accepted," Lexa said, nuzzling her temple. 

"Challenge..." Clarke shook her head. " _Fuck_ , Lexa..."

Lexa smirked. "I mean, if you insist..." 

Clarke laughed. "I can't even..." She forced herself to straighten, to stand on her own legs without Lexa's support, but Lexa only tightened her arms around her so even if Clarke wasn't relying on her to help hold her up, they were still pressed as close as they could be. "Bed," she said. "Now."

* * *

"What are the odds?" Lexa asked, her head resting on Clarke's chest as she traced her fingers idly over Clarke's ribs and under the curve of her breast. It made Clarke shiver, which made her nipple tighten, and Lexa rolled the pad of her thumb over it. 

Clarke's breath caught as her nerves sparked. She'd thought they'd worn themselves (or each other, depending on how one wanted to look at it) out, but apparently her body wasn't quite ready to admit defeat yet. It took her a second to register what Lexa had just said, and she caught her hand to still it. 

"I just can't help thinking, what are the odds? What are the odds that your mother would decide to study this obscure disease that affects such a tiny fraction of the population, and what are the odds that she would have you come to a fundraiser for it, and..." Lexa pressed her lips together. "I _know_ what the odds are that I would live to be this old, to be old enough to feel this way, to be with you like this, and yet here I am. I defied the odds, and I met you, and... and your mother found a cure – we hope – and I defied even death, but I only got that chance because of you, and..." Her eyes filled and spilled over, and Clarke softly wiped the tears away. "Since that first night, or... more the first morning, when I woke up next to you... everything has felt right." 

Clarke took a breath, let it out slowly. "Since I met you, I haven't felt like I was walking around with a hole in my heart," she told her. "Not that you can fill the place that my dad's death left, but you made me believe that I could be happy again. I _am_ happy. When I thought I lost you..." She swallowed. "I don't know what I would have done. I don't know..." 

"Shhh," Lexa whispered. "Clarke..." She took one of Clarke's hands and pressed it to her chest so she could feel her heartbeat beneath her skin. "I'm not going anywhere."

Clarke sniffed. "You're going back to school."

"So are you," Lexa said. "But we have phones, and cars. We'll see each other."

"Things will get busy," Clarke said. "They always do. You'll—" She tried to clear the lump from her throat, hating that she was getting worked up over this when it didn't have to be an issue. But 'didn't have to' and 'wouldn't' were two different things. "You've got a whole life ahead of you for the first time," she said. "You'll—"

"I have a whole life ahead of me, and you're at the heart of it," Lexa interrupted. 

"You don't owe me anything," Clarke said. "If that's why—"

"No!" Lexa shook her head so hard it shook the bed. "Is that what you think? You think that I'm just here out of _gratitude_? After everything I just said? Clarke." She waited for Clarke to look her in the eye. "We will make it work because we both want it to work. I know it hasn't been that long, but I can't imagine my life without you, and I don't want to. Not because I think I owe you something. Because..." She seemed to deflate a little, some part of her curling inward even as her body stayed still. "Do you know what I almost said? When you asked what else we are?"

Clarke shook her head. She'd forgotten that Lexa had stopped herself from saying something, even though she'd wondered at the time. 

"Soulmates," Lexa told her. "Friends, lovers, girlfriends... soulmates. Even though it's silly, even though it's a stupid fantasy that people—"

"It's not silly," Clarke said, "or stupid." She didn't quite know how to respond, how to feel, but she didn't want Lexa feeling strange or awkward for having said it. She didn't really believe in a higher power, at least not in any concrete way, and she'd never really taken to the idea that there was one person – just one – out there who would be everything that you needed, who would complete you, who would love you perfectly. 

But she didn't think that was what Lexa was saying. Relationships took work. Love took maintenance. One person couldn't be your be all and end all. They couldn't be your everything. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't what either of them wanted. She believed that. After all, there was Aden and Madi and Ontari and the rest of the kids. Loving Clarke didn't make them any less important to Lexa. 

But that didn't mean that there couldn't be people in the world who, when you met them, when you were with them, made you feel... more. They lifted you up. They supported you. They had your back. They cared about the things you cared about just because you cared about them. They challenged you and made you want to be your best self. 

They made your heart beat a little faster. They made your spirit sing.

If _that_ was what Lexa meant by a soulmate...

She took Lexa's face between her hands, tipped their heads so that their forehead and noses touched. "It's not silly," she repeated. "It's us."

* * *

"Just take her home," Lexa snarled, glaring a Ontari as she rubbed the back of the little girl that Ontari had managed to make cry. Clarke had missed whatever had caused it, but it was obvious that Lexa was at the end of her rope. "Please," she added belatedly. 

Clarke nodded and stole a quick kiss from Lexa before herding Ontari toward the door. The teenager's expression was hard to read. From the set of her lips she looked smug, like she was happy that she'd driven a child to tears. There was something in her eyes, though... something that wasn't proud at all. The faintest flicker of remorse... but she didn't apologize. She'd told Clarke once that she only apologized when she was sorry, and she was never sorry.

But Clarke wondered. 

Ontari clicked her seatbelt into place and looked at Clarke expectantly. Clarke sighed and shook her head. If the girl was expecting Clarke to yell at her, she was going to be disappointed. Not that Clarke didn't want to yell – to grab her and shake her and demand to know why she was sabotaging what might be the only chance she had for a home at this point – but it wasn't really her place. 

In the end it was Ontari who started yelling. 

"She said take me _home_!" she shouted as they pulled into Clarke's driveway, parking alongside her mother's car. "This isn't my home!" 

"It is for now," Clarke said. "Where did you think I was going to take you?"

"HOME!" Ontari got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as she could. Clarke felt the shift in the air pressure in the car and winced. She got out to follow, not sure if Ontari had a key (or if the door was even locked), but before she got there the door opened and Ontari barged inside, nearly knocking over Abby in the process. 

Clarke saw her mother turn, opening her mouth like she was going to say something, but Ontari bolted past her up the stairs, another door slamming in her wake. 

Abby sighed and rubbed her temples. "That good?"

"She made a girl cry," Clarke said. "I kind of got the impression that it might not have been an accident."

Another sigh. "This is what happens when children are raised by wolves," Abby said. "When the only time someone pays attention to you is to torture you..." She let the thought trail off. "It's not going to work, is it?"

Clarke's eyebrows drew together, lines forming between them. "What isn't?"

"Having her live there with the other children. It's not going to work."

Clarke drew in a breath, wanting to say something hopeful, then let it out in a gust and shook her head. "I don't think so. She doesn't know how to interact with the kids. At all. I don't know if she _means_ to be mean – she might just see it as honesty – but that's how it comes across. I'm sure in time –"

Her mother shook her head. "That's not fair to them," she said. "They've lived together relatively peacefully – from what I've heard, anyway – for a long time. To disrupt that, especially when there is a possibility that their life expectancies may increase significantly..." She trailed off again. 

"What else is there?" Clarke asked. "What other—"

"You could take me the fuck _home_ ," Ontari said, startling them both. Clarke looked over and saw that she had the backpack that she'd packed for Ontari when they'd taken her to the hospital at her feet, stuffed full of clothing and she wasn't sure what else. "Like your girlfriend told you to."

"Ontari," Abby said, holding out her hands, somewhere between offering a hug and offering surrender. "I know that—"

"You don't know _anything_ ," Ontari said. "You don't know me! Stop pretending that you do! Stop pretending that you want to! You don't, and you never will." 

Clarke watched her mother's lips press together in a thin line. "I understand that this is difficult for you. You had a life that you were used to, and—"

"I just said, you don't know me! You don't understand _anything_! Just let me go home! You can put everyone out of their misery if you just let. me. go." 

"Ontari," Abby said, her voice low, like she was trying not to frighten a cornered animal that was ready to attack anyone that came too close. "There's nowhere else for you to go right now. Your—Nia is in custody. Bail was denied; she's too much of a flight risk. She's locked up, and she's going to stay there. With the evidence they've collected, there is no chance that she is going to get out of this. None. So you're going to need to start thinking about—"

The sound that Ontari made wasn't human. It was the sort of sound that Clarke imagined an animal might make when it was surrounded by predators and knew that its end had come but it was going to take out as many of its attackers as it could before it went down. She watched as Ontari reached for a bowl that sat on the side table just inside the door – her father had always tossed his spare change into it, calling it the vacation fund, but Clarke used to take change back out of it all the time when she needed it and he never said anything – and lifted it, slamming it down on the tile. The ceramic bowl (which Clarke had made at an art camp one year) shattered, and change rolled everywhere. 

She reached for the framed photo that sat next to where the bowl had been – an old family portrait – and hurled that at the wall. The frame splintered and shards of glass rained down, and something blazed in Ontari's eyes as she searched for something – anything – else to destroy. 

Before she could get her hands on anything else, Clarke grabbed her, tackling her backward into the wall and pinning her there. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you dare touch—"

"Clarke," her mother said. "Let her go."

"No!" Clarke said. "I'm not letting her destroy this house. I'm not letting her—" 

"I know," Abby said. "She's not going to."

Ontari laughed, a wild, unhinged sound. "Like hell I'm not," she said. "Your stupid, perfect house and your stupid, perfect family and your stupid, perfect life! I'll destroy it all! I'll burn it down and—"

"I know—" Abby started, and Ontari bucked against Clarke, trying to shove her off, trying to get at her mother. Clarke slammed her back, her forearm against Ontari's throat now, pressing hard enough that her face started to turn red. 

"Clarke!" Abby yanked her back, freeing Ontari, who stood frozen for a second before scrambling for the door. They managed to grab her before she got it open, each of them holding one of her arms as she struggled, cursing and screaming. 

"Go to your room," Abby said calmly in a brief break in the stream of invective. "Calm yourself down." 

"It isn't my room!" Ontari shouted, spit flying from her lips and hitting Abby's face. "This isn't my house! I don't live here! I don't want to live here! I want to go home, and you—"

"Go to your room," Abby repeated. "Calm yourself—"

Ontari managed to break out of their grip, and Clarke immediately put herself between the girl and the door, but this time she just stormed upstairs. For the second time in not very long – it had felt like an eternity when they were struggling with her, but the truth was only a few minutes had passed – the door to the guest room slammed (this time so hard that pictures fell from the walls, and Clarke suspected there would be more broken glass to clean up). 

Clarke tried to follow her, to tell her that she'd better not touch anything, break anything else, but her mother stopped her. "Let her go," she said. 

"She's going to destroy—"

"I know," Abby said. "I already took your father's things out of there. I thought it might make her feel more at home, less like a guest room that's more frequently used for storage than guests. I thought—" She swallowed hard, and Clarke realized that her eyes were swimming with tears. "They're just things. It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Clarke said. "They're _our_ things, and—"

"They're _her_ things," Abby said. "It's _her_ room."

Clarke blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I've filed for custody of her," Abby said. "After New Years..." She sighed. "She was here as an emergency placement, but I know people who know people, and as soon as I heard the evidence that they had against Nia... I filed to make the placement... more long-term."

"Mom." Clarke shook her head. "You can't seriously be thinking—" A thunderous crash interrupted her, but still her mother held her back. 

"Let her go," Abby said. "As long as she's raging like that, she's not hurting herself."

That brought Clarke up short. "Do you think she would?"

"I wouldn't put it past her," Abby said. "All she's ever known is pain. And she's right – I don't know her. There is no way for me to truly understand what she's going through, what she's feeling. But it's not hard to imagine, given what she's used to, that she might externalize what she doesn't know how to deal with on the inside." 

"She just got her life back," Clarke said. "She asked us – begged us – not to let her die. You really think—"

"I don't know," Abby said. "I don't think she would actually kill herself, not intentionally, but..." She sighed. "What else am I going to do?" she asked. "Where else is she going to go? If she can't fit in with the other children – and given the fact that she's had essentially no exposure to people who weren't trying to hurt her, it's not surprising that she goes to great lengths to keep people at a distance – where else is she going to go?"

"There are other foster—"

But her mother shook her head. "Not for someone like her," Abby said. "She's not... she has no social skills. She doesn't know how to live in a home, with a family, which makes traditional foster placements out of the question. They would put her in a group home, but that would be even more people, with even less focus on developing the skills that she needs, and I... I can't do that to her. I won't. She would end up somewhere that was a step down from juvenile detention, most likely, and it would just harden her. I think there's someone good in there, underneath all the fear, and—" She must have seen the doubt in Clarke's face, because she said, "Yes, Clarke, that's fear, just as much as, if not more than, actual anger. Her entire world has been turned on its head and she doesn't know how to handle that."

"What about her parents?" Clarke said. "Now that she's not sick anymore..."

"From what I was able to find out, there were complications at birth," Abby said, "and her mother died. There is no record of a father. She's been with Nia since she was very, very young; I doubt she remembers anything else. I know that she knows Nia isn't her mother, but..." She shrugged. "I'm the best chance that she has. You know your father and I talked about—"

"I know," Clarke said. "I just—" She shook her head, not sure what she could say. Her mother had made up her mind, and if she wasn't standing in the middle of a pile of wreckage, she might even have agreed with her. But if this was what Ontari was going to be like—

Clarke realized then that things had gone quiet upstairs. She looked at her mother, whose head was tipped like she had also just noticed, and now she was listening harder for any signs of movement, of life...

"I'm going to go check on her," Abby said, and Clarke nodded. She watched as her mother climbed the stairs and heard her knock on the guest room door. She was answered by a thud that sounded a lot like the sound a Doc Marten might make when it was hurled against wood. 

"Mom—"

"It's all right, Clarke," Abby said, and then she disappeared into the room.

Clarke heard muffled shouting, and more things being thrown, and the soft murmur of her mother's voice, calm as if she wasn't standing in the face of a human hurricane, and more shouting, and then, finally, absolute quiet. 

She bounded up the stairs two at a time, panic squeezing her heart and gripping her throat, because what if something had happened? What if Ontari had done something to her mother? Surely Abby would have called for help... but what if she hadn't gotten the chance? Clarke had her hand on the knob when she heard her mother's voice again, although she still couldn't make out the words, and maybe they weren't words at all, because when she listened harder she heard the sounds of crying. She knew what her mother's tears sounded like, and this wasn't it. This was Ontari, still cursing between sobs, but Clarke trusted that her mother wasn't in any immediate danger, so she went downstairs to start cleaning up.

When she swept up the fragments of glass and ceramic and scattered coins, she discovered that one of the floor tiles had cracked with the impact of the coin-filled bowl. She sighed, fingering the fracture, then went back to sweeping. When the mess had been cleared and the coins put into another (plastic) container, she went to start dinner.

Her mother came down first and put her arms around Clarke, hugging her from behind. "Thank you," she said. 

Clarke shrugged. "It's just pasta." 

"That's not what I mean," Abby said. 

"She—" Clarke stopped herself. She wasn't even sure why. "One of the tiles got cracked."

"They were old anyway," Abby said. "Maybe it was time for a little renovation."

"Maybe," Clarke said. She stirred the pot of noodles so they wouldn't boil over and turned down the heat. "Is she...?"

"She's all right," Abby said. "As all right as a person can be, anyway, given the life she's had."

"Does she know?" Clarke asked. "That you filed to—"

"Not yet," Abby said. "I didn't want to bring it up until I was sure that she wasn't going to turn things around, that she didn't _want_ to go live with the other children. I wasn't sure how she would react. I'm still not. For now I think it's best to wait until she asks. I assume she will eventually since this was supposed to be temporary." 

Clarke nodded, letting herself focus on not burning dinner because it was easier than thinking about what might happen when Ontari found out that this was her home now, what she might do when Clarke and Lexa were back at school and not here to stop her if she decided to go on another rampage. 

Abby set the table, and Clarke heard her call up the stairs to Ontari to tell her that dinner was ready. She was honestly a little surprised when the girl came down, eyes red-rimmed, nose still pink and raw-looking. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and Clarke could see her mother holding back from going to her and wrapping her in a hug. 

Ontari slouched into a chair and poked at her food, pushing it around the plate more than eating it. After a few minutes of silence, she asked, "Is it okay?"

"Is what okay?" Abby asked. 

"The picture," Ontari said, staring at her food. "The frame, and the glass... but is the picture okay?"

"It's fine," Clarke said. 

"Okay," Ontari said. "Good." She went quiet, finally taking a bite. 

They were clearing the table when she spoke again. "I tore it up," she said. "You said it was mine to do with what I wanted, and I tore it up."

It took Clarke a second to realize that she was talking about the painting she'd done of her back on Christmas. It seemed so long ago. "Okay," she said. 

Ontari grabbed the bowl of leftover pasta and took it into the kitchen. She reached for the cupboard where the Tupperware was kept and took out a container that looked to be about the right size. Clarke realized then that whether the girl realized it or not, this house had already started to become her home. She tried not to watch her too closely as she scooped noodles and chicken and veggies from the bowl. 

"I wish I hadn't," Ontari said. "Even if it didn't look like me. It was still pretty good."

Clarke glanced at her mother, whose eyes had filled with tears again, even though she was smiling. Clarke smiled back and handed Ontari the container's lid. "It's okay," she said. "I'll paint you another."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Sorry it took so long to update this one! 
> 
> I didn't get as much done as I would have liked in July, but I'm going to try to go back to a regular posting schedule anyway. We'll see how it goes...


	9. Chapter 9

"Orrrrr..." Clarke said, dragging the word out as she traced her fingers up Lexa's spine, "we could just _not_ go back..."

Lexa laughed and rolled onto her side, draping her arm over Clarke's waist and pulling her closer. "We have to," she said. 

"We don't, though," Clarke said. "Who says we have to?"

Lexa just rolled her eyes and shook her head, and their heads were close enough on the pillow that her nose brushed Clarke's in the process. "It's only for one semester," she said. 

"I mean, I _guess_ ," Clarke sighed, overblown and theatrical to cover up the fact that her throat was starting to tighten. It was their last night together, except it had already gone past night and into morning. In a few hours, they would go say goodbye to the kids, and then Lexa would get in her car and leave, and Clarke wouldn't see her again until next weekend at the earliest. 

They couldn't even drive back together, because they both needed to get their cars back to campus, and their ultimate destinations were different. Clarke didn't want it to feel like a metaphor, but it did. If someone had told her at the start of winter break that her life was going to change completely in those few weeks away from school, she wouldn't have believed them. If they'd tried to convince her that she was going to meet her soulmate and fall in love and watch her die and come back again, she would have thought they had completely lost their minds. 

But here she was – here _they_ were – tangled together in more ways than just the physical, and the idea of not going to sleep next to Lexa the following night was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She tried to tell herself that she was a strong, independent woman who didn't need anyone, but something in her rebelled at the idea that to be considered strong and independent, she had to somehow forego the support and love of a partner. Humans, by nature, were not solitary creatures. They needed each other, and that didn't make them weak. 

She pressed her lips to Lexa's, hard, rolling her onto her back and pinning her there. "If we don't sleep," Clarke declared, "morning won't come."

"It will," Lexa said, "whether we want it to or not. But I'm willing to bet that we'll c—"

Clarke kissed her again to stop her. "Don't," she mumbled against her mouth. "Don't even say it."

Lexa's eyes sparked with mischief as she yanked her hands free of Clarke's grip "—ome first," she finished, a quick twist of her body reversing their positions before Clarke knew what was happening. 

She raked her short nails down Lexa's hips. "Oh yeah?" Clarke challenged. "Prove it."

* * *

Clarke sat with Madi in her lap, even though she was a little too big for it, stroking her hair and occasionally blotting her tears as they leaked down her cheeks. "I know," she said softly. "I don't want her to go either." 

"Not just her," Madi sulked. "Who's going to teach me how to draw and paint if you're gone?"

"Your art teacher?" Clarke suggested, but from the noise she made, Madi didn't think much of that suggestion. "I'll be back in a few weeks... well, six or seven... for spring break, probably. I can teach you more then." 

"I'll have forgotten everything by then!" Madi said, her voicing shading into whiny. 

"Not if you practice," Clarke said. "You have an iPad, right?"

"It's not only mine," Madi said. 

"Okay, but you can use it sometimes. How about we figure out a time where you can use the iPad and we'll do a FaceTime lesson? Then you won't forget too much." 

Madi sniffed and shrugged. "Maybe," she said grudgingly. 

"It's better than nothing," Clarke said. "But I'm pretty sure you'll have to earn the screen time, so you'll have to make sure that you do all your homework and chores and don't get into too much trouble, here or at school. Think you can do that?"

"Maybe," Madi said again. 

Clarke hugged her and kissed her head. "I think you can," she said. "I'm going to miss you too, you know." She surprised herself a little with how much she meant it. "Isn't it funny how we didn't even know each other until last month, and now it feels like we've known each other forever?"

"It's because you're meant to be here," Madi said. "Because Lexa needed you, and you needed her. Now you're part of our family forever." 

"You think so?" Clarke asked. 

"I know so," Madi said, straightening a little, the corners of her mouth tipping up. "I did right from the start." 

"That's right," Clarke said, smiling back. "You did. Our little matchmaking elf." She tapped Madi's nose, which made her wrinkle it, and Clarke couldn't resist tickling her, just a little, to see how much more of her face she could get to scrunch up. 

Maybe thinking that she ought to take advantage of the fact that Madi was smiling and giggling, Lexa came over and held out her arms. "Time for me to go," she said. "One more hug for the road?"

Madi looked up, her laughter faltering and then failing completely, and she hurled herself at Lexa, the impact enough to knock Lexa back a step, fumbling for balance as Madi attached herself and refused to let go. 

Clarke could hear Lexa whispering to her, even though she couldn't make out all of the words, but Madi refused to budge or even to loosen her grip. Lexa shot her a helpless look, but it wasn't until Titus started over that Clarke intervened, prying Madi away and getting a tight grip on her as she started to flail. "Shh," she hissed into her ear. "Madi, Madi please, I don't want you to get into trouble. Lexa has to go but I'll stay, okay? One more lesson and one more dinner and I'll tuck you in. Okay? But you have to calm down." 

Madi swallowed hard, practically vibrating with energy, but she stopped struggling. Lexa took her hands and kissed one, then the other, and then kissed her forehead. "I love you," Lexa told her. "I'll see you again." 

"What if you don't?" Madi asked. 

"I will," Lexa said. Madi didn't look convinced, but she didn't argue, and when Lexa asked if she could have a minute with Clarke, she backed off a few feet. Which didn't exactly give them privacy, but they'd already said the goodbyes and 'I'll miss you's that could only be expressed without words last night and this morning. "Thank you," Lexa whispered instead. "For staying."

"She's scared," Clarke said. "She loves you, and when you go, she doesn't know if you'll come back." 

"Or if she'll be here to see me when I do," Lexa said. "I know."

Clarke's blood ran cold. She hadn't thought of that side of the equation. Lexa had gotten her mother's treatment. Madi hadn't. And Madi didn't know that Lexa might be cured. They didn't want to give the kids potentially false hope, so they were saving that news until her mother had had a chance to do more testing and analysis. Until she could be at least reasonably sure that she could do the same for them. 

"Let me know when you get there," Clarke said. 

"I will." She hugged Clarke and kissed her softly. "I love you," she murmured. 

"I love you too," Clarke said. "I'll talk to you later." 

One more kiss and she was gone, and Clarke took Madi's hand and led her to the table, getting out her art set and setting her up at her easel. Titus didn't look entirely thrilled by the fact that she was still here, like he wasn't as sure as Madi was that she belonged without Lexa at her side, but Clarke shrugged it off. Madi needed her here, and she needed the distraction. She stayed for dinner – consolation pizza – and let Madi drag her through all the steps of her bedtime routine, curling up in her bed with her to read her more chapters than she was probably supposed to before finally sticking the bookmark in and setting it aside. 

"I'm not going to finish it," Madi told her. "You have to. When you come back." 

"Okay," Clarke said. "I will." 

"Promise?" Madi asked, extending her pinky.

"I promise," Clarke said, hooking it with her own. She rubbing Madi's back until her eyelids got heavy, then pressed a kiss to her temple as they finally fluttered closed. "Sweet dreams, Madi," she whispered. "I love you." 

She watched the little girl for a few seconds more, then smoothed the blankets over her and switched off the bedside light, closing the door behind her as softly as she could. 

Aden was waiting just outside the room, shifting from one foot to the other. "Are you going now?" he asked. 

Clarke nodded. "I need to go home and finish packing," she said. "I'm driving back to school tomorrow."

"Okay," he said. He nodded towards Madi's room. "I'll look out for her," he said. "I'll make sure she's okay." 

"Thank you," Clarke said. "She really looks up to you."

He shrugged, his expression almost grim. "Thank you for the LEGOs. And for helping me build them. It was fun." 

"I had fun too," Clarke said. "We'll have to do it again sometime." 

"I hope so," he said, still too serious. Clarke guessed she understood why, but it broke her heart to think that at 12 or 13 he had already been sobered by the inevitability of his own mortality. "Have a safe trip."

"Thank you," she said again. She held out her arms, and he leaned into her, hugging her like he wasn't sure that he should be. She squeezed him a little tighter to make up for it before letting him go. "Stay healthy," she said. "I'll see you soon." 

He forced a smile. "I hope so."

* * *

Clarke knocked on the guest – no, Ontari's – room door, and a few seconds later it cracked open and one dark eye peered out. "What?" she asked.

"I have something for you," Clarke said. "I wanted to give it to you before I left." 

Ontari nudged the door open a little farther and stepped back, letting her step inside. The room had been put back together, but there were still signs of Hurricane Ontari's passage – a nick here, a dent there – if you knew to look for them. But there were also signs that Ontari was starting to settle in and make herself at home: a hoodie tossed over the back of a chair, several pairs of shoes tumbled together in the corner, various charging cords snaking over the floor, waiting to be put to use. 

"Well?" she asked.

Clarke handed her the watercolor that she'd done that afternoon during Madi's lesson. She'd worked from a reference this time, a picture on her phone that she'd surreptitiously snapped of Ontari listening intently to something her mother was saying while trying to look bored at the same time, so that Abby wouldn't get the impression that she actually cared about anything. 

Ontari pressed her lips together and nodded. "This one actually looks like me," she said. "More than the other one." Clarke could hear the regret behind the words; Ontari hated that she'd destroyed the first picture, even if she wouldn't say it in so many words. Maybe one day Clarke would try to recreate it... or maybe it would just have to be a lesson that Ontari learned the hard way. But then Clarke wondered if Ontari had ever learned anything any other way. 

"We might have an empty frame somewhere," Clarke said. "If you wanted. Mom would always buy frames when there was a sale at the art store, but then she would forget to actually get prints made to fill them." 

"Could've fooled me," Ontari said. "Everywhere you look in this place, there's someone staring at you."

"So I'm guessing that's a no on wanting to see my sketchbook from my 'all I draw is eyes' phase?" Clarke teased.

"'Cause that's not creepy at all," Ontari said. "Maybe a frame would be cool..." 

So they went looking, finally finding a box of them in one of the closets, still in their plastic wrap with the random pictures of strangers behind the glass. There were several colors of mat board, too, and Ontari decided that it might be cool for the painting to have a border in a complementary color, and it became a whole project. Ontari feigned disinterest, but Clarke could see the way she was taking in and processing everything she was doing, and she finally let her try her hand at cutting one of the edges that would be hidden by the frame anyway, and she caught Ontari's flash of a smile before she could hide it. 

When it was done, Ontari picked it up and held it out, admiring their work. "I'm going to go show Abby," she said. 

"Hold on," Clarke said. Ontari stopped, her expression immediately wary, and Clarke wondered if maybe this was a mistake. She might make things worse instead of better, but she had to at least try. "I need you to do me a favor."

Ontari's scowl deepened. "What?"

"After I leave... let her take care of you, okay? At least sometimes. I know you don't really need it, but she does. She's been a mom for the last eighteen years, and even with me out of the house she doesn't know how to turn it off. You don't have to let her run your life or anything. Just humor her sometimes. Let her do her mom thing, and then you can text me to bitch about it. Deal?"

Ontari considered this for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "I'm going to blow up your phone," she said. "Don't say I didn't warn you." She turned on her heel and headed for the living room. As she cleaned up, Clarke could just see her showing the framed painting to her mom. A minute later, they were headed for the garage for a hammer and nails to hang it. She could hear banging up in Ontari's room as she put the unused mat board and utility knife back in their places, and when she went upstairs, she saw them admiring their work, her mom's hand resting lightly on Ontari's back without the surly teenager shrugging it off. 

Maybe things would work out after all.

* * *

Clarke was still fumbling with the bags and boxes she was carrying when the room to her dorm flew open. 

"It's about time, bitch!" Octavia said, grabbing her suitcase and yanking it, and Clarke, inside. "I heard you coming down the hall – herd of elephants much? – and ordered our usual from Sgt. Pepperoni. Hope that's okay – maybe I should have asked if you wanted to swap out the sausage for anchovies?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, refusing the dignify the comment with a response, and dumped the stuff she was carrying onto her bed, tapping out a quick text to Lexa.

**Clarke:** Got back to school safe. Roommate may not survive the night. Up for harboring a fugitive?

Lexa texted back a few seconds later, like she'd been waiting to hear from Clarke. Maybe she had; by her own admission she didn't have many friends at school, having not wanted to burden any of them with whatever feelings they might have if she died suddenly. 

**Lexa:** Always, but you probably shouldn't kill her. Glad you're safe. Talk to you later?

**Clarke:** If I'm not on the lam. Love you.

**Lexa:** Love you too. 

Clarke sent the kissing emoji and then put her phone away, turning her attention to Octavia, who was glaring at her. "Sorry," she said. "I just needed to tell her I got her."

"Your mom?" Octavia asked.

"Oh. Shit." Clarke pulled out her phone again and texted her mom to tell her she'd arrived. "Sorry. Again. I swear I didn't mean to ghost you for most of vacation. Things just got... intense, and then they got more intense, and then..." She shrugged. "How was your break?"

Octavia snorted. "Nope. No way. You're not getting out of it that easy. I'll give you a pass until the pizza arrives, give you a chance to unpack, but after that, you're telling me _everything_." She flopped down on her bed and picked up a book, but Clarke didn't actually hear any pages turning as she put away the laundry that she'd done while at home, then tried to decide where to hang the paintings that Madi had insisted that she take with her. 

Octavia's phone buzzed, and she ran down to the lobby to retrieve the pizza food. She set the pizza boxes down on the trunk that doubled as a sort of coffee table when they needed it to and grabbed Clarke by the back of the shirt, dragging her away from her desk and forcing her down into one of the two slightly dilapidated beanbag chairs. Clarke opened one of the pizza boxes, wrinkling her nose at the ham and pineapple that stared up at her. "That one's yours," she said, nudging it toward Octavia. She opened the other to find her own favorite – sausage and pepperoni – and pulled out a slice, blowing on it so she didn't burn her mouth on the cheese when she took her first bite. 

Octavia let her get through about half of one slice before reaching out a foot and nudging her calf. "Time's up, Griffin," she said. "Spill."

"I already told you some of it," Clarke said, but the truth was she honestly couldn't remember what. So she started from the beginning and told Octavia... if not everything, at least enough of it that it could plausibly be everything. She didn't figure Octavia needed – or wanted – to know all of the details of the days that she and Lexa had barely gotten out of bed, and she glossed over the whole watching not one but two people die part, because even thinking about it made her chest tighten and panic start to sink its claws in all along her spine. 

When she was done, Octavia just looked at her for a long time, her expression not quite blank, but Clarke couldn't tell what she as thinking. Finally she just raised her eyebrows and held out her hand. "Pics or it didn't happen," she said. "Let me see this goddess among women." 

Clarke shook her head, relieved that Octavia wasn't demanding that she fill in any gaps that she might have detected, and brought up her photos before handing the phone over to Octavia. Octavia let out a low whistle, then laughed. "Wow, Clarke. Those sweaters are... something."

"They were my dad's," Clarke said, and was surprised to realize that saying it didn't hurt. "His fashion sense was... questionable. Especially when it came to festive sweaters." 

"I can see that," Octavia said. She kept scrolling, then stopped. "Okay, hold up. Is there some kind of time warp or something near your house? Does time pass there faster than it does here?"

"What?" Clarke held out her hand to take the phone back, but Octavia held it out of reach. "What are you talking about?"

"This," Octavia said, turning the screen so she could see Clarke, Lexa, and Madi mugging for the camera, their faces smushed together to fit into the frame. Clarke couldn't remember what day it had been taken; it had probably been one of their random visits just to keep Madi from blowing up Lexa's phone with demands that they come see her. "I can't think of any other explanation for how you would have a picture of you, your girlfriend, and a kid who is _clearly_ your spawn." 

"She's not—" Clarke started to say, but Octavia cut her off. 

"She totally is," Octavia said. "If you and Lexa made a baby together, that is _exactly_ what she would look like." 

Clarke started to shake her head, but then she saw it, and once she saw it, she couldn't unsee it, and couldn't figure out how she'd missed it before. If it was possible to mix her genetics with Lexa's, Madi could very well be the result. She had Lexa's dark hair and Clarke's blue eyes, and her features were somewhere in between. 

"That's Madi," she said softly. "She's... one of the Pramheda's kids. Lexa... she grew up with Lexa."

Octavia sobered. "So she's sick?"

Clarke bit her lip. "Not yet."

"Then your mom can cure her," Octavia said. "Right?"

"We hope so. It's still... pretty untested. It worked on Lexa, and then on Ontari, but... there's really no good way to test it that might not kill them... it _did_ kill them, or at least they died, but they came back, but..." Clarke shoved her hands between her knees to hide their shaking. "They're just kids. They're just little kids, and it's not fair. Madi didn't want to let us go because she didn't know if she would see us again. Every time she says goodbye to anyone, it might be forever because she doesn't know if she'll live 'til tomorrow, and it's _not fair_."

Octavia set her phone down and came over, squashing herself onto the beanbag with Clarke and putting her arms around her. "You're right," she said. "It's not. But your Mom is going to figure it out. She saved Lexa, right? And this Ontari girl. So far there's a 100% success rate. She'll save the rest of them, too. She'll save Madi."

Clarke nodded, wanting to believe. _Needing_ to believe. She picked up the phone and found her first picture of Madi, the one she'd sent to Lexa... She touched the screen lightly. If her mother did manage to save her, save all of them, what would happen then? With the whole world opened up to them, would they still stay in their little corner of it, under the care of Titus and Gaia and the others that came and went? What kind of a life would that be?

"I'm sorry," Octavia said. "I didn't mean to upset you." 

"It's fine," Clarke said. "I'm still trying to process it all. And I didn't sleep much last night." She'd stayed up too late talking to Lexa, and then when she'd finally tried to sleep, she'd tossed and turned, her body all too aware of the empty space next to her. She'd finally wrapped herself around a body pillow and dozed off... but it had been fractured by dreams that were closer to nightmares. She'd finally managed to get a few hours just before dawn. 

"You miss her?" Octavia asked. 

_Like I would miss breathing,_ Clarke thought, but she just nodded. 

"Shit, dude," Octavia said. "You got it bad." She grinned. "But you said she's not that far away, so you can see her on the weekends, right? Which I guess means I'd better prepare myself to be sexiled." 

Clarke finally managed a laugh. "She has a single," she said. "Medical necessity, and they don't need to know that that's changed. So you'll have the room to yourself. Not like you're ever here."

"That's because I'm a good roommate and I know that you don't have anywhere else to go," Octavia said sweetly. "If you're not here, though..."

"I don't even want to know," Clarke said. 

Octavia just smirked. "You sure? Because I could totally give you a blow-by—"

Clarke picked up one of the now cold garlic knots and shoved it in Octavia's mouth before she could say anything more.

* * *

The days dragged, but the week went by faster than Clarke expected it to, and on Friday night she found herself in Lexa's dorm, sharing her cramped twin bed with her and not minding at all because she didn't want to be anywhere but in her arms. There was a dining hall right in Lexa's building, so there was no reason to leave the room for longer than it took to go downstairs and grab food, and they didn't until it was time for Clarke to leave on Sunday, several hours later than she'd intended. 

They fell into a routine of calls and visits, and it got easier to be away from Lexa because Clarke always knew that she would see her soon, that it was never more than five days until they would be together again. Classes and homework filled up most of the rest of her time, since she tried to cram it all in during the week so that she didn't have to do it while she was with Lexa, although that got harder as the semester wore on. She also had her weekly FaceTime art lesson date with Madi, and as promised, Ontari periodically blew up her phone with texts complaining about her mother.

**Ontari:** She says I have to do a Social Activity. What the fuck does that even mean? 

Clarke rolled her eyes. 

**Clarke:** I'm guessing she thinks that because you don't physically go to school, you should participate in something that forces you to actually interact with other human beings occasionally.

**Ontari:** I interact with people!

**Clarke:** The internet doesn't count.

**Ontari:** Fuck you! I go to work with her every damn day and sit in her office and do my classes. People come in. I talk to them sometimes. I talked to a guy in the waiting room...

**Clarke:** Those aren't your peers.

**Ontari:** Whatever. Of course you're on HER side. 

**Clarke:** I'm not on anyone's side! I just don't know what's so bad about spending time with people your own age once in a while.

**Ontari:** They don't know shit about shit.

_Eloquent,_ Clarke thought. 

**Clarke:** Did she say what kind of activity it had to be? 

**Ontari:** No. Just something with other people.

**Clarke:** So... a sport or something? 

**Ontari:** Oh yeah. That's me. American All-Star Sports... person. Rah Rah Go Team.

Clarke bit back a laugh, even though Ontari couldn't hear it. 

**Clarke:** You sure? Because you're pretty good on a pair of skates, and as I recall, you've already perfected the body check. Ever considered hockey? Our women's team pretty much rocked the Olympics.

**Ontari:** That's... actually not the worst idea ever. 

**Clarke:** You're welcome.

**Ontari:** Whatever.

But she heard from her mother a few days later that she'd talked to Ontari's therapist (the regular visitation of said therapist being one of the conditions of Ontari getting to stay with her) and to the hockey coach of the girls' team at the local skating rink, and they both agreed that it might be a good fit. Ontari wouldn't be allowed to take out her anger on her teammates, or even opposing teams when they got to that point, but it would help her work off some of that energy, blow off some steam, and learn how to interact with other people without too much pressure to talk. The team was nearing the end of their season, but the coach had invited Ontari to join them for a few practices, see how she liked it, and if things went well, she could attend their summer training camp to prep for tryouts for next season. 

They made one trip back for the weekend so that Abby could draw more of Lexa's blood for testing, and Clarke was relieved to see it was still as red as her own. Her mother didn't give them details about where she was in the process of determining if this really was a cure, and if so, how and when it would be administered to the kids, but as long as Aden and Madi and the rest of them stayed healthy, Clarke chose to believe that no news was still good news.

* * *

The Thursday before spring break, Clarke's phone started buzzing in her pocket the second she walked out of her last class. Not just the single buzz of a text message, but insistently like someone was calling. She slid it from her pocket and checked the screen. Seeing Lexa's name, she swiped to answer it. "Hey," she said. "What's up?"

"Do you have anything important tomorrow?" Lexa asked. 

"I have class in the morning," Clarke said, "but my afternoon discussion section is canceled. Why?"

"But you don't have any tests or anything?" Lexa's voice was clipped, tense, and it put Clarke on edge.

"No," Clarke said. "Lexa, what's going on?"

"Pack fast. I'll be there soon." She hung up, and when Clarke tried to call her back, she didn't answer. 

Clarke hurried back to her room, glad that she'd gotten an early start on packing for break. It was mostly dirty laundry, but she would fix that when she got home... or to Lexa's apartment, where she was likely to be staying for the week. She grabbed a few last-minute things and shoved them into her bag. She was just finishing up when her phone buzzed again, this time with a text.

**Lexa:** I'm here. Come downstairs.

Clarke frowned. Why was she in such a hurry? What could possibly— Her stomach clenched as she realized that there was really only one thing that would have Lexa this determined to get home early. One of the kids was sick and she needed to get to them before...

**Clarke:** Be right down.

She scribbled a note to Octavia saying she had gone home early and would text her later, then grabbed her bag and hurried down the hall, pressing the button for the elevator over and over even though she knew that wouldn't make it arrive any faster. 

If something had happened to one of the kids, though, Lexa wouldn't have waited for her, would she? She would have just gone and told Clarke to come as soon as she could and hoped that she would arrive before it was too late. Clarke had her own car, after all; they didn't _need_ to ride together. 

Lexa was leaning against her car, chewing on a thumbnail, when Clarke burst through the door. She opened one of the rear doors and Clarke pitched her stuff in, then slid into the passenger's seat, clicking her seatbelt into place as Lexa got behind the wheel. 

"What's going on?" Clarke asked. "I thought we weren't leaving until tomorrow."

"Change of plans," Lexa said. "We're not going home. Not yet, anyway."

"Where are we going?" Clarke asked. "Lexa—"

"I'm sorry, Clarke," Lexa said. "I just... this couldn't wait. She can't wait."

"Who?" Clarke asked.

It was as if Lexa didn't even here her. She was stuck in her own head, her thoughts looping like a broken record, and she just kept babbling. "I couldn't wait, couldn't take that chance. Not when—"

"Lexa, _who_?" Clarke demanded. 

Lexa's eyes finally flicked to her before going back to the road as she merged onto the highway. "Luna," she said. "We're going to find Luna. We're going to save her."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter discusses cancer and the death of a mother. If these are things that are difficult for you to read about, please proceed with caution.

_Luna._

Not one of the kids then. Not Madi or Aden or any of the others. Clarke sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay," she said, more to herself than to Lexa. "Okay." 

A few more breaths and her head started to clear as oxygen replaced pure adrenaline. She tried to remember what Lexa had told her about Luna. They'd grown up together under Titus' care. Luna was a little older than Lexa, and she'd had a younger brother who also had Pramheda's Disease who had died before her, causing her to move away from everything and everyone, off the grid or nearly. They communicated only through email, and that rarely. Lexa had contacted her to tell her about the possible cure and heard nothing back.

Until now. 

Except Lexa hadn't said that, had she? She'd said that they were going to find Luna, but she hadn't actually said that Luna had contacted her. Had she found her through some other means, and they were about to show up unannounced and try to force her to take the treatment? That didn't _seem_ like Lexa's style – she'd been the one who'd convinced Titus not to try to drag Luna back, after all – but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

But what would make Lexa decide that these were desperate times? 

Clarke turned in her seat to look at Lexa, studying the lines of her face, set into a determined frown as she changed lanes to get around a truck that was doing several miles per hour under the speed limit. Once they'd passed the truck, though, Lexa didn't let up, and Clarke watched as the speedometer crept upward. 

"Lexa," she said gently, "slow down. We don't get there faster if we get pulled over."

Lexa glanced down at the dashboard and grimaced, easing off the gas so that the needle began to descend again, settling on a speed that was a little over the limit, but matched the speed of most of the vehicles around them so they wouldn't stick out. "I'm sorry," Lexa murmured. "I'm just..."

"Worried?" Clarke suggested. "Stressed?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "To both."

"Is she sick?" Clarke asked. "If she's sick, shouldn't we go home first? Get the treatment to give her? It would be better in a hospital, just in case, but—"

"I don't think she's sick," Lexa said, but her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles going white. "She didn't say she was sick. And how would we get it, anyway? I don't think your mother is just going to let us walk off with it."

"You never know," Clarke said, then admitted, "but probably not. I still have the codes, though, from Ontari. Unless she changed them."

"She didn't say she was sick," Lexa repeated. 

"You talked to her?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa nodded, then shook her head. "She emailed. She has my number; I give it to her every time I write to her."

"If it was urgent—" Clarke started, then stopped herself. "What did she say?"

"She said, 'I'm willing to listen,' and then an address."

"That's it?" Clarke frowned. 

"Yes," Lexa said. 

"That doesn't sound like someone who's panicking," Clarke said, "so that's a good sign, right? If she needed you to come quickly, it seems like she would have said so. If she just said she's willing to listen... for all we know, this is the first time she's checked her email since you wrote to her. Maybe she's more off the grid than you thought."

"Maybe," Lexa said. She settled back a little in her seat. "Maybe." Her eyes closed for longer than a blink, but then she seemed to remember she was driving and opened them again. "You're right," she said, glancing at Clarke. "If she needed me right now, she would have said so." She didn't sound entirely confident in the statement, but at least she had relaxed a little. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I shouldn't have dragged you away from school. I panicked."

"It's okay," Clarke said. "It's just a gen ed, and the professor posts the PowerPoints online afterward anyway. I'm sure I won't be the only one to skip. I'm don't think he even bothers to take attendance half the time." She smiled, nudging Lexa's leg gently. "And when have I ever complained about spending more time with you?"

Lexa smiled back. "You might by the time we get there," she said. "It's a pretty long drive."

"How long is pretty long?" Clarke asked.

Lexa glanced at the GPS on her phone, which was mounted in a holder on the windshield, and Clarke felt a little silly for not looking at it herself. "Four hours, give or take."

Clarke glanced at the clock, and at the sky. It would be dark by the time they arrived at wherever they were going, but not that late. "We should stop somewhere and get something to eat," she said, "or at least snacks." 

"We can do that," Lexa said.

* * *

They ended up stopping twice, the first time to fuel themselves, and the second to fuel the car. 

The first stop ended up being a little longer than they'd planned, because as soon as Clarke got her arms around Lexa, greeting her properly now that she was calm enough to accept it, Lexa fell apart. Just a little, for a few minutes, but they'd crawled into the back seat and clung to each other until the tears subsided and she was breathing easy again. Clarke hadn't let her apologize; she'd kissed her every time she'd tried, until finally Lexa had given up, laughing. 

The second stop was quick, just long enough to get gas and use the restroom. They were still an hour and a half from the address Luna had given them, and they were both eager for the trip to be over. Even though they'd decided that Luna was probably fine, Lexa was anxious to see her. Clarke was just antsy and tired of sitting still... and okay, more than a little curious to meet the actual oldest dead girl walking, as Ontari would certainly have described her. 

The roads the GPS pointed them to grew smaller and smaller. Although still nominally highways, some of them were only a single lane in each direction, and the towns that they passed through (if they qualified as towns at all, and not villages or... was there something smaller than a village?) were fewer and farther between. 

Finally they pulled off the highway (such as it was) and onto a long, narrow road that took them, at long last, to a cluster of buildings that clung to the shores of what Clarke thought was some kind of bay. It didn't look like open ocean, but it was hard to tell in the dark. The smell of the sea had been creeping through the vents of the car for a while now, but as soon as they reached a stop and Clarke opened her door, she was surrounded by it. The waves rushing in and sliding back out again made it sound like the whole world was breathing. 

A light switched on next to one of the doors, and Clarke watched as it cracked open and a young woman slipped outside. The light caught in auburn curls, highlighting features that were a perfect mix of strong and soft. 

"Luna," Lexa said, and stumbled as she dodged around her still-open door to get to her, catching her balance and almost colliding with Luna as she came down the steps from the house – cottage might be a better term – to meet her. Clarke couldn't hear what either of them said, if they said anything at all, as they held each other tight, rocking back and forth slightly, clinging for a long time before they finally released each other, but only enough to get a good look at each other's faces. 

Luna looked over at her first, and Lexa turned to follow her gaze, and warmth bloomed in Clarke's chest when she smiled and waved her over. Lexa let go of Luna with one hand to offer it to Clarke, drawing her almost into their embrace. 

"Luna," Lexa said, "this is Clarke. Clarke, Luna."

"Nice to meet you," Clarke said. 

Luna looked her up and down, a quick flick of her eyes sizing Clarke up, and then back and forth between her and Lexa. It took her less than a second to put the pieces together. "It's cold," Luna said. "You both should come inside." When they started to follow her, she lifted her chin in the direction of the car. "Get your things," she said. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving again tonight."

"Right," Lexa said. "It might just take a minute."

Luna nodded. "I'll go start some tea. Just come in when you're ready." She released her grip on Lexa's arm and went back inside, closing the door softly behind her. 

"She looks healthy," Clarke said. 

Lexa startled, looking back at Clarke from where she'd been staring at the door that Luna had just disappeared behind. "What?"

"I said, 'She looks healthy,'" Clarke repeated. 

"She does." Lexa pulled Clarke into her, burying her face between the collar of Clarke's coat and her neck. They hadn't been outside that long, but the tip of her nose was already cold, and Clarke shivered, tipping her head against Lexa's, rubbing their cheeks together. "I didn't know what to expect," she said. "I was afraid..."

"I know," Clarke said. "But she's okay."

"For now."

"That's why we're here," Clarke reminded her. "To make sure that she stays okay."

"What if she won't do it?" Lexa asked. "What if we came all this way and we can't convince her? What if—"

"Hey," Clarke said gently. "She said she's willing to listen. If she wasn't interested, it would have been easy enough for her to ignore your message, right? She could have just never responded. Instead she told you where to find her, which is more than she's ever done before." She shrugged her shoulder, forcing Lexa's face up so she could look her in the eye. "Where's the girl who told me a few hours ago that we were going to save Luna? _That's_ the girl who needs to walk into that house and talk to her oldest friend."

Lexa straightened, pushing back her shoulders and settling back on her heels. "You're right," she said. She took Clarke's face between her hands and kissed her softly. "Let's do this."

They gathered their things – it took Clarke a minute to find the few items of clean clothing that she'd packed and shove them into a smaller bag – and went inside. Luna raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on the delay. She just nodded toward an open cupboard that was stacked with boxes of tea as she pulled three mugs from another shelf. "Pick your poison," she said, her lips quirking. "I promise none of them actually are, although there are a few that sort of taste like they might be."

"If they taste like poison, why do you have them?" Clarke asked, joining Lexa in looking into the cupboard. She wasn't much of a tea drinker, but it was probably too late to be drinking coffee, and she wasn't going to make Luna go out of her way to make it even if it wasn't. 

"They're allegedly good for you," Luna said. "Antioxidants, immunity boosters, that kind of thing. If you believe the hype." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Any of the berry ones are good, if you don't want actual tea. And they look pretty in the cup." 

Clarke finally picked some kind of berry medley, according to the box, and Lexa chose an apple spice. Luna pulled the kettle from the stove just before it started to whistle and poured hot water over the teabags in each of the mugs. "There's honey and sugar, and milk in the fridge if you want it, but I wouldn't suggest it with a fruit tea." 

Clarke dumped a few sugar cubes into her mug and stirred it, then followed Luna into a small sitting room, taking a seat next to Lexa while Luna sat in an oversized armchair, her body turned towards them, but no one said anything as they took their first experimental sips before deciding, almost as one, that it was too hot to drink. Clarke set her mug on the coffee table while Lexa and Luna both kept theirs cupped between their palms. She took the opportunity of the semi-awkward silence to look around. The room was cozy, and not exactly cluttered, but everywhere you looked there was something to see, most of it beach-themed. A watercolor of an octopus, a bit of fishing net, throw pillows emblazed with starfish and sand dollars. At least there weren't any mounted dead fish anywhere. 

"How much does she know?" Luna finally asked, inclining her head toward Clarke, the question clearly intended for Lexa.

"I would be dead without her," Lexa replied. 

Luna's eyebrows went up. 

_Technically you were dead even with me, if only for a moment,_ Clarke thought, but she swallowed back the words, because that wasn't exactly a good selling point for the treatment. _It might cure you, but in two out of two trials, the patient died before it started working._

"Her mother is the one who developed the treatment," Lexa explained. "Dr. Abigail Griffin. She's been doing research, and—"

"You said cure," Luna interrupted. "In your email, you said cure."

"I said, 'They may have found a cure,'" Lexa corrected. 

Luna frowned. "Now you're calling it a treatment," she said. "Which is it?"

"We don't know," Lexa said, "but only because it's been less than three months. You can't call something a cure if you haven't had the chance to test its long-term efficacy. But so far, everything is positive. Or negative. However you want to look at it." She shook her head slightly. "It's easier to just show you."

Lexa set down her mug and reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pocketknife. "Lex—" Clarke started to say, but it was too late. She'd already pulled out the blade and pressed the point into the heel of her hand, drawing a bead of blood. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and pressed it to the tiny wound, then extended it to Luna. 

"See for yourself," she said. 

Luna kept her tea in one hand and extended the other to take the tissue, her hand was trembling slightly as she brought it closer to her face. The lighting in the room was dim, but Clarke could see even from here that the stain on the clean white surface was bright red. It wasn't a question of being able to see that had Luna staring; it was a question of being able to believe what she was seeing. After a moment, she crumpled the tissue in her hand. Clarke silently took another and gave it to Lexa for her hand while she fished in her bag for a Band-Aid. When she found one, she quickly and carefully bandaged Lexa up. She wasn't sure that Lexa even noticed her doing it; she and Luna were engaged in a staring contest for the ages. 

It might have gone on indefinitely, but they were all jerked back into reality by a piercing cry from another room, followed by a child's wail of, "Mama!"

Luna was up in an instant, closing the door that she slipped through firmly behind her, leaving them startled and staring in her wake. 

"Did you know she has—" 

Lexa stopped her with a sharp shake of her head. "She didn't say anything about it. Them. She..." She picked up her mug again, trying to bring it to her mouth but her hands were shaking too badly. Clarke took it away before it could slosh over. The last thing they needed right now was to add a burn to the mix. She took her hands instead, pressing them between her own, and leaned in until their foreheads rested against each other. 

"It's going to be okay," Clarke told her. 

"You don't know that," Lexa said.

"I didn't know my mother's untested treatment would work, either. But I had to believe that it would. And it did." 

One corner of Lexa's mouth curved up. "Is that going to be your trump card every time I'm doubting something?" she asked. "'Remember that time you agreed to be a guinea pig for a completely untested experimental drug and it worked out? If that can work, this can, too.'" 

"Well when you put it that way..." Clarke said, "then yes. Absolutely."

Lexa laughed, and tipped her face to kiss Clarke lightly. "I guess I can live with that," she said. 

Luna came out of the room a few minutes later with a little girl balanced on her hip, her round brown eyes still swimming with tears and her thumb jammed in her mouth like a stopper to keep her cries from escaping. Luna smoothed back her hair and gently extricated her thumb. "This is Adria," she said softly. "Adria, this is my friend Lexa and her friend Clarke. Can you say hi?"

Adria looked at them for a second, then shook her head and buried her face against Luna's neck. Luna smiled. "She gets shy sometimes," she said. "Let me just get her some water." She tried to set her down, but Adria clung to her, and finally she gave up and went into the kitchen, returning with a sippy cup and plate of cookies, which she set on the table for everyone to share before sitting down with Adria in her lap. How she managed it all without dropping anything, Clarke had no idea, although she guessed it helped that Adria seemed to be part koala. 

"Is she... yours?" Lexa asked after a minute. 

Luna snorted a laugh and shook her head. "Do the math, Lexa," she said.

"I don't know how old she is!" Lexa said, holding up her hands. 

"How old are you?" Luna asked Adria, who had her cup clutched between both hands and was sucking down water like she'd just been on a five-mile hike through the desert. The little girl held up two fingers, and Luna jiggled her knee, bouncing her slightly. "Is that _really_ how old you are?" she asked. Adria slowly uncurled a third finger, and Luna beamed. "That's right! You're three now!" 

"Right," Lexa said. "You would have had to have been—"

"And considering the only person I'd ever kissed before I left was you..."

Clarke nearly choked on the bite of cookie she'd just taken, looking back and forth between them. Lexa hadn't said anything about the two of them being anything other than friends. 

"I thought we agreed that we would never speak of that again," Lexa said, but she was fighting back a smile. She looked at Clarke and laughed. "We were young and wanted to know what it would be like to kiss someone," she said. "We..." She stopped, bit her lip, shook her head. 

"We didn't think we would ever find out otherwise," Luna said, filling in the blank. "For the record, kissing Lexa was as weird and awkward as it would have been if I'd decided to kiss my brother. We regretted it instantly. And I do believe there might have been a promise never to mention it to anyone, ever. Oops." Her eyes were bright as she smiled at Lexa.

"You _pinky-swore_ ," Lexa said. 

"I did not," Luna said. "We were too old for pinky-swearing by then."

"You're never too old for pinky-swearing," Lexa argued. "Anyway, now you've broken your solemn vow, and all bets are off. Every embarrassing secret I know about you is fair game." 

Luna raised her eyebrows. "Who are you going to tell?" she asked. "If every intentionally repressed childhood faux pas is back on the table, it seems to be that you're in a much worse position than I am." Her eyes flicked to Clarke and back again. 

" _She'll_ grow up eventually," Lexa said, nodding to Adria. "How will you be able to enforce anything when you've got someone ready and willing to tell her about all the trouble you got up to?"

Luna's smile flickered and faded, and she pulled Adria a little closer. The girl offered her cup to Luna, and she took it, tucking it between her leg and the arm of the chair, in easy reach if she needed it again. 

"Ah-ah," she said when Adria tried to stick her thumb back in her mouth, and the girl stopped. 

"Sorry, Lulu," Adria whispered, her voice small and the r's sounding more like w's. 

"It's okay, little starfish," Luna said, tickling her gently until she cracked the tiniest hint of a smile. "Do you want to color while the grown-ups talk?"

Adria looked over at Lexa and Clarke again, pressing herself harder against Luna before finally nodding. This time she let Luna set her down, and she walked cautiously toward the end of the coffee table closest to where Clarke was. 

"I _love_ your mermaid pajamas," Clarke told her. 

Adria stretched out the front of her shirt and looked down at it, like she hadn't noticed what was on her pajamas, and for all Clarke knew, maybe she hadn't. How much attention did three-year-olds pay to what they were wearing? She looked back at Clarke and flashed her a smile, then held out her leg. "Fishie," she said, showing off the mottled purple-green-blue leggings that were patterned to look like fish scales.

"I see," Clarke said. "They're awesome. I wish I had some." 

"We could see if they make them in your size," Lexa teased. 

"They do," Luna said, returning from Adria's bedroom (at least that's what Clarke assumed) with a coloring book and a box of crayons. "I have them."

"And you're not wearing them?" Lexa asked, gasping with feigned shock. 

Luna grinned. "I could go change," she said, "if it would make you feel better."

"You can't just tease us with saying they exist and then _not_ show them off," Clarke said. 

Luna rolled her eyes. "You," she said, pointing at Lexa, "are ridiculous. And you," she aimed her finger at Clarke, "shouldn't encourage her." But she disappeared into another room and came back a few minutes later in fish scale leggings that were, if not identical to Adria's, close enough as to make no difference. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Lexa said, deadpan, and Luna grabbed a pillow. Clarke was sure that the only thing that kept her from smacking Lexa upside the head with it was the fact that Adria was watching their every move. 

"Go on," Luna said, spilling out the crayons onto the table and pulling a little footstool over for Adria to sit on. "It's all right." But the little girl just watched them like she didn't know what to do. Her hand was in a fist with her thumb stuck out, slowly creeping toward her mouth. 

"Can I color with you?" Clarke asked. "I love coloring." Adria stopped, startled, and then nodded. Clarke slid off the couch so that she would be at a better level to color on the coffee table, then picked up one of the coloring books over and pressed it open on the table. "Which picture should I color?" she asked, flipping through the pages slowly. Like most of the house, the coloring book had an ocean theme, and Adria stopped her when she got to a picture of a turtle. "This one?" Clarke asked. "For you or for me?" Adria pointed at Clarke.

"Use your words, Adria," Luna said gently. 

"You," Adria said. 

"Okay. Which one do you want to color?" Clarke kept flipping through pages until Adria stopped her again, this time on an octopus. She dashed out of the room and came back a minute later with a stuffed octopus with long floppy arms and presented it to Clarke. 

"Oh, thank you!" Clarke said. She took it and put it on her head, and Adria giggled and shook her head. 

"Not a hat!" she said. 

"Oh, it's _not_?" Clarke said. "Hmmm..." She took the octopus and set it on the stool. 

"No!" Adria said. "Mine!" 

"That's _your_ seat?" Clarke asked. Adria nodded emphatically. "Well, what about... here?" She sat the octopus on the arm of the couch. "Can it sit there?" Adria nodded. "Okay, good. Let me just..." Clarke carefully tore the pages Adria had chosen out of the coloring book and set them on the table, then picked up one of the green crayons and began to carefully fill in one of the sections of the turtle's shell. Adria watched her for a moment, then picked up a purple and got to work.

"Thank you," Luna said softly. 

Clarke just shrugged. "Sometimes it's hard to figure out where to start," she said, "even for me." 

"Clarke's an artist," Lexa said.

"Clarke does art," Clarke corrected. "I'm not an artist."

Luna cocked her head. "Is there a definition of artist other than 'a person who makes art' that I'm unaware of?" she asked. 

Clarke shrugged. "It's just something I do for fun."

"That doesn't make you less of an artist," Luna said. "There are too many people in life who will go out of their way to make you feel small. Don't be one of them."

Clarke blinked. She'd never thought about it that way, but now that the words were out there, it seemed obvious. "You're right," she said, smiling. "Clarke is an artist."

"Clarke is also the kind of weirdo who talks about herself in the third person, apparently," Lexa teased. 

"You know you love me," Clarke teased back, the words out before she thought about them. 

"I do," Lexa said. Clarke rocked sideways to nudge her shoulder into Lexa's knee, and tipped up her face for an incredibly awkward, whichever Spider-Man movie it was upside-down kiss, half-forgetting that they had an audience. She went back to coloring with her cheeks flushed, but she couldn't help smiling. 

"Is it all right to talk with her here?" Lexa asked after a minute, nodding toward Adria.

Luna nodded. "I think so. She probably understands more than I realize, but I don't know how long it will be before she gets tired again, and I know..." She sighed. "I know this can't wait."

Lexa nodded. "Who is she?" she asked. "She called you Mama."

Luna shook her head. "She called _for_ Mama. She didn't mean me." 

"Where is her mother?" Lexa asked. 

"Gone," Luna said. 

"Gone like stole away in the middle of the night, or...?"

Luna pressed her lips together and shook her head. She didn't need to say it for them both to understand. "It was only a few weeks ago," she said softly. "I don't think Adria gets it yet, not completely, that she's not coming back. She knows she's not here, and that makes her sad, and..." She swallowed hard, brushing away her own tears. After a few slow breaths, she said, "I guess I should start from the beginning."

"You don't—" Lexa said, but Luna shook her head.

"I do," Luna said. "It's why you're here." She picked up her mug of tea, now cool enough to drink and headed towards cold, and took a sip. "Her name was Maya, and she was the one who took me in." 

Clarke felt Lexa's leg start to jitter and she reached up to take her hand, holding it in her right while she colored with her left, the soothing motion of the crayon across the paper making it easier to concentrate on the story that Luna wove.

"She was pregnant at the time, on her own because it was just a summer fling, she said, and even though she knew it would be hard, the idea of not having her was something she wouldn't even consider. She said Adria was her miracle baby; she'd had cancer when she was a teenager and they told her that there was basically no chance, with all of the drugs and radiation she'd been given, that she would be able to conceive and carry to term. So when she found out she was pregnant, she knew she was going to have the baby no matter what. Then I turned up needing a place to stay, and she was going to need another set of hands to help her out soon, and she decided it was fate."

Luna sipped her tea, and Clarke looked up to see her watching Adria, her expression soft, but there was something dark and painful in her eyes. "I was there at the ultrasound where they found the first signs of cancer. Not the same one she'd had before; she'd been in remission long enough that they considered her cured from that one, but I guess her body decided that when its first attempt to go rogue and kill her didn't work, it would bide its time and strike again when she was least able to fight it." 

Clarke cringed inwardly, already guessing where this was going. She watched as Adria scribbled over the octopus, making only a token effort to stay inside the lines. 

"She refused treatment. She – Adria – would have been viable by that point, but she would have been in the NICU for who knows how long and with who knows what long-term effects, and Maya wasn't going to take that chance. She would rather gamble with her own health. She refused to get treatment while she was pregnant, and although she let them remove the mass they'd seen after Adria was born, she refused any other treatment while she was nursing. Which, of course, she wouldn't even consider _not_ do. American Pediatric Whatever this, World Health Organization that, La Leche League the other thing. And who was I to argue with her? Who was I to tell someone how to live the life that they have, however long or short it might be? Most of the 'poison' tea in there was hers; she would try anything to stay healthy for a little while longer." Luna set her mug down; it was almost certainly cold by now. She picked up a pillow and hugged it to her chest. 

"Did she know?" Lexa asked. "About you?"

Luna shook her head. "At first I was afraid to tell her because I thought, 'Who wants a potential corpse for a house guest?'" Clarke shivered at the grim humor; she assumed it was meant to be funny. "Then she got diagnosed, and had a baby, and even if you're perfectly healthy that saps most of your energy. I was okay, I felt fine... it just didn't seem important in the face of what she was dealing with." She bit her lip. "When Adria was eighteen months old, they told her she couldn't wait any longer, and she finally gave in. She was finally convinced that she'd given Adria the best start in life she could, and now she needed to get healthy herself so that she would be around past the start. They started her on regular treatments, and when that didn't get the results they wanted, they went to experimental ones. She was the perfect candidate for trials: young-ish, in fairly good health despite everything, and a single mother of a young child, so she had the tug at the heartstrings factor. She had everything going for her, and for a while, it seemed to be working. Until it wasn't anymore. Until there was nothing left to try and the cancer had spread and—" Her breath caught and she shook her head. 

"I was there when Adria was born, the first person – other than Maya, of course – to hold her. She won't remember a time when I wasn't part of her life... but she might not remember a time when her mother was." Lexa let go of Clarke's hand, reaching out to Luna instead, but Luna drew away from the touch. "When she was dying... when even the doctors started talking about days, maybe weeks if she was lucky... she said, 'Maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe it's better that she doesn't remember me at all than that she remembers me wasting away...'" Lexa offered her the box of tissues, and Luna wiped at her eyes and nose and drew in a shuddering breath. "She made me promise... she made me promise that I would take care of her. That I would... that I would raise her like my own. She told me... if Adria ever starts to call me Mom... don't fight it. Don't correct her."

"Did you?" Lexa asked. "Promise?"

"Of course I did," Luna said fiercely. "What was I going to do? There's no one else!" Clarke could see her throat working as she swallowed. "She died the day after Adria's third birthday. She said she was going to live to see that, at least, and she did. The next morning she didn't wake up. I did. And someone had to make Adria breakfast, get her dressed, brush her hair and her teeth..." She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. "I finally checked my email. I had been too busy to even think about it for so long, and it's not like anyone emails me anyway. Except you. When I read what you wrote—"

"All done!" Adria announced, holding up her picture for them to see. 

"It's beautiful," Luna said automatically, hastily trying to compose herself before Adria noticed that something was off. 

"It's amazing!" Clarke said, trying to distract the little girl to buy Luna more time. "How did you know that octopuses can do camouflage? It must be hiding somewhere very colorful!" 

Adria smiled at her and nodded, then thrust the sheet at her. "For you!" 

"Thank you so much!" Clarke said. "That's so nice of you!" She held out her arms for a hug, but the little girl frowned and shook her head, which was more of a twisting of her entire upper body, and retreated to the safety of Luna, her boldness – and probably the rest of her – exhausted for the night. Luna picked her up and settled her in her lap, and Adria twisted a blue-dyed curl around one finger, the thumb of her other hand migrating to her mouth. This time Luna didn't try to stop her. 

"After I read what you wrote, I wished I hadn't, because it reminded me that this won't last forever. I'm fine now, but at any moment, I might not be. For a while I think I convinced myself that I could be the exception to the rule, the one who somehow defeats the odds. Even though my blood is black, somehow it didn't mean the same thing for me as it did for the other Nightbloods. You reminded me that I'm living on borrowed time... and I'm not just doing it for myself anymore." 

"Then you'll do it," Lexa said. "You'll take the cure."

"Treatment," Luna said.

"Treatment," Lexa agreed. "But only because we haven't had long enough to prove that it's a cure."

"Now who's in denial?" Luna asked, her tone bitter as black coffee. 

"I showed you—"

"So what? How many times have we been told that they've had a breakthrough, developed a new treatment, that there's hope, only to be let down again? How many times have we had our blood drawn, our spines tapped, our bones drilled into to get at the marrow? How many times have we suffered only to be told, sorry, there's no hope after all?" 

"But it was never like this!" Lexa said. "Our blood always stayed black. I don't know the science of it, but—" She looked at Clarke, desperate for her help, but even though it was her mother's research, Clarke didn't know much more than Lexa did. "I almost died, Luna. I _did_ die, for a second, but then I came back, and when I did, my blood was red. Like the treatment had triggered something in me that destroyed whatever it was that wants to destroy us. Like it... reset my immune system so that it wasn't on a hair trigger to destroy me anymore, wasn't a bomb set to detonate at the least provocation, not—"

"Did you just say you _died_?"

"Only for a second!" Lexa said, her voice rising, then lowering again when Adria flinched. "It was... I don't know if it was necessary, but that's what happened with Ontari, too, and now her blood is red, just like mine."

"The angry one?" Luna asked. "A few years younger than us?" 

Lexa nodded. "She's as surly as ever, but maybe a little less angry. She found out that I'd been cure—that I'd been given a treatment that brought me back from the brink, changed my blood, and she intentionally got herself sick so that Dr. Griffin would have to give it to her, too, to save her. Because it turns out—" She stopped and looked at Clarke when she nudged her in the leg. "I can't give you details but suffice to say that the woman who adopted her wasn't a fit guardian. She was going to refuse treatment and let Ontari die. Clarke's mom got social services involved, Ontari got the treatment, and she's healthy again."

"Why can't you give me details?" Luna asked. 

"Because there's still an ongoing investigation," Clarke said. "Ontari lives with my mom now. She plays hockey." 

Luna smiled at that. "That seems like it would be kind of sport," she said. "What about—" She stopped herself, shook her head. "No. I don't want to know. I left so I woudn't have to watch any more children die. I don't want to know how many were lost since I've been gone."

Lexa frowned, but Clarke knew that she understood, and she was wasn't going to force Luna to hear anything she didn't want to hear. 

"I need to think," Luna said. "I can't... can I have time to think?"

"Of course," Clarke said, before Lexa could say anything. She knew that Lexa was desperate to save her friend, but they weren't going anywhere tonight anyway. Luna could at least have that long. 

"Thank you." Luna rearranged Adria, who was asleep in her arms, and stood up. The motion woke Adria from her doze and she lifted her head, blinking in confusion. "Bedtime, little starfish," Luna said, her voice light and sweet. "Lulu is going to sleep in your room tonight. What do you think of that?" Adria nodded and put her head down again. 

"I'll be right back," Luna said, and went to go put Adria back to bed. When she returned, she was smiling, but it didn't come close to reaching her dark eyes. "If I'm lucky, there will still be room in the bed when I get back," she said. "What they don't tell you in any parenting books that that children in bed become liquid – they will expand to fill all available space."

Clarke laughed, and Lexa smiled. "Hence 'little starfish'?" Lexa asked. 

"Exactly," Luna said. 

"Speaking of... Lulu?"

"Don't you start."

"I was just going to say that it's adorable, and I might have to—"

"You two can have my room," Luna said, pointedly talking over her. "There are fresh sheets on the bed, towels in the bathroom... you should have everything you need. If you don't, you know where to find me."

"I'm sure we'll figure it out," Clarke said. "Thank you for having us."

"Thank you for coming," Luna said. "And for helping with Adria. She's... it's tough. She used to be a bundle of energy, but now all she wants to do is cling to me. That's the most I've seen her smile since..." She smiled crookedly. "It means a lot."

Clarke shrugged. "It's not—" But it _was_ a big deal to Luna. "You're welcome."

Luna pulled her into a hug, and even though it only lasted a few seconds, there was a strange sense of warmth and safety that filled Clarke. Was that what an aura was? A vibe? What did she feel like to people? When she let go of Clarke, she embraced Lexa, and that lasted a much longer time. Neither of them seemed inclined to let go, and Clarke wasn't sure who actually loosened their grip first. Finally, though, Luna went into the room where Adria was sleeping and closed the door, leaving them to their own devices.

They went through their bedtime routines side-by-side, barely letting each other out of their sight, and it was a relief to curl up with each other in the center of Luna's wide bed. They held each other close in the dark, noses brushing as they shared a pillow.

"What if she says no?" Lexa asked, repeating her question from when they'd just arrived, sounding even less sure of the outcome than she had then. "What if she won't do it?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Clarke asked. "She needs to live. She has Adria to take care of."

"Because she doesn't trust medicine. Doesn't trust doctors. Her brother got a treatment which did nothing for the rest of us who took it, but it made him sick, and it was so fast... Luna was there with him, and she says he was there one minute, and then just... gone the next. Even if it worked for me... the fact that I had to die first isn't exactly a point in its favor, because what if..." She didn't have to finish; Clarke knew exactly how that sentence ended. "Or she might just be afraid she'll get used for a lab rat."

"Like Ontari."

"Like us," Lexa said. "Nothing like what that bitch Nia did to Ontari, but we were subjected to plenty of tests, too. She wasn't making that up. Your mother has been really good about it, really respectful of boundaries, but it's still..." She grimaced, sighed. "She might say no just so she doesn't get turned into a doctor's pincushion."

"If that's all it is," Clarke said, "then we'll get the treatment and give it to her without my mom knowing. We won't let her die just because of that. No way."

Clarke felt Lexa's breath against her cheek, a long, slow exhale. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how much better it makes me feel to hear you say that." 

Clarke brushed her lips against Lexa's. "When we get home, you'll just have to show me."


	11. Chapter 11

Clarke woke up to a small face in hers. All of last night's shyness was gone, replaced by twinkly-eyed mischief. "Wake up time!" Adria announced, plopping her stuffed octopus on Clarke's head and giggling. 

"Wake up time?" Clarke said. "Are you sure?"

Adria nodded emphatically.

"Are you really, _really_ sure?" Clarke asked. "Because I was thinking it might be blanket cave cuddle time. Doesn't that sound like more fun than wake up time?"

Adria considered for a second, then nodded and clambered up onto the bed, worming her way under the covers and then climbing over Clarke to burrow into the space between her and Lexa, wiggling until she had herself comfortably wedged with her tiny shoulder blades digging into Clarke's chest and her toes poking into Lexa's thighs. Clarke had vague, dreamy memories of doing the same thing with her own parents and wondered if Lexa had any like it with hers... or any memories of her parents at all. The thought that she might not made Clarke sad. The thought that Madi and Aden and the rest of the kids probably didn't either made her sadder. And imagining what memories Ontari might have of being this small...

She shivered and tucked Adria a little closer to her body. 

"Adria?" Luna called from the kitchen. "Where did you go?"

Adria opened her mouth to answer her, but Lexa put a finger over her lips and shook her head. "Pretend to be sleeping," she whispered, pulling the blankets up so that Adria was almost entirely hidden. She closed her eyes to demonstrate, then started to fake snore, and Adria's body vibrated with giggles that she tried to muffle with her hands over her mouth. 

Footsteps in the hallway – Luna, obviously – stopped at the cracked open door. "Hmm..." she said. "Where could Adria be? I asked her to wake up the lazybones' for breakfast, but they're still asleep, and I don't see her _anywhere_. It's too bad, because I made blueberry pancakes, and I know they're her favorite. I guess I'll just have to eat them all myself." 

Adria sat upright, throwing back the blankets. "I wake up, Lulu!" she said. "I wake up for booberry pancakes!" 

"There she is!" Luna said, scooping Adria up and hugging her tight. "There's my little starfish." She propped her on her hip and kissed her cheek as Lexa scrambled to pull the blankets back over them, not because they weren't decent but because the sudden change in temperature was more of a wake-up call than any three-year-old could ever be. "What do you think?" Luna asked. "Should we share our pancakes with these sea slugs?"

Adria giggled again and nodded. "Yes please."

"All right. Since you asked _so_ nicely, we will share our blueberry pancakes. But only if they get up first, right?"

"No crumbs in the bed!" Adria said, shaking her head side to side. 

"Exactly." Luna reached down and grabbed Lexa's foot, jiggling it. "Take all the time you want," she said, "but the pancakes _will_ get cold."

"We'll be there in a few," Lexa said. When they were gone, she looked at Clarke and rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she said. 

"For what?" Clarke asked. "You know I like to cuddle in the morning." She smiled, and Lexa leaned in to kiss her, and they let themselves be distracted for a few seconds before forcing themselves upright and into warm socks and hoodies over their pajamas. Clarke got the feeling that this was meant to be a summer cottage, not a year-round dwelling, but Luna and Adria were making the best of it. 

The kitchen was full of good smells: the promised blueberry pancakes, bacon fresh out of the oven (because you didn't have to deal with grease spatter that way), and coffee brewing in a tiny pot on the counter. Clarke tried not to look like she was making a beeline for it but based on the laugh that bubbled up from Luna, she wasn't very successful. "We keep – kept –" She screwed up her face as words failed her. "It's for guests," she finally said. "Help yourself."

"Thank you," Clarke said. She grabbed a mug from the cupboard, dodging around Adria to get to fridge for some milk, only to discover it was on the table. She poured a splash into her cup, then spooned in some sugar and stirred. 

"What's wrong?" Lexa asked Adria, because the little girl was scowling at the sink like it had wronged her. 

"Can't reach," Adria pouted, holding up her hands and spreading her fingers. 

"Oh," Lexa said. "You can ask us for help," she said. "It's okay."

"Help," Adria said, poking out her lip.

Lexa lifted her up and held her so she could wash her hands, then plopped her down in her booster seat and scooted her chair into the table. "Milk or juice?" she asked. 

"Milk," Luna answered for Adria. "You can have juice after."

Adria heaved a sigh as Lexa poured her cup three-quarters full of milk. "Does it have a lid, or...?" Lexa looked at Luna. 

"It's fine at the table," Luna said. "We just still use the sippy cups when she's carrying it around the house to avoid spills. Not really any different than an adult using a water bottle instead of a glass."

Clarke snorted. "I'd never really thought about that, but water bottles kind of are like adult sippy cups, aren't they?"

"Pretty much," Luna said. She came over to the table with a plate. "Okay, Adria. Which one do you want? We have a starfish, a whale, a heart, and... well, I was _trying_ for a seashell, but it didn't really work out."

"Hellooooooo whaaaaaale!" Adria said. 

"Whale it is," Luna said, and scooped it onto her plate. "So... starfish for Clarke, heart for Lexa, and this mess for me." She distributed the specially-shaped pancakes and sat down, then bounced back up again to retrieve the plate of regular round pancakes from the counter and to grab the whistling kettle. 

"These are really good," Lexa said when she sat down again. "And you know I take pancakes seriously." 

Luna laughed. "Thank you," she said. 

"Thaaaaaaaank yoouuuuuuu, Luuuuuuluuuuuuu," Adria said, then dissolved in a fit of giggles. 

"Can you tell we watch a lot of Nemo around here?" Luna asked. 

"DOUGHY!" Adria said, thumping the end of her special toddler fork on the table. It took Clarke a second to realize she was actually saying Dory.

"And Dory," Luna amended. "We watch lots of Nemo and Dory." 

They settled into their breakfast, with conversation mostly centered around passing things and asking if anyone needed any more fill-in-the-blank and reminding Adria of her table manners when she forgot. It all felt strangely normal, and Clarke didn't question it because it was nice. It was nice to know that she fit into this part of Lexa's life too, because if Luna said yes to what they were offering, she was going to be a part of Lexa's life again for a good long time. 

At least that was the hope. 

When they were finished, Lexa insisted that they take on kitchen clean-up while Luna got a rather sticky Adria into the bath. Clarke sidled up behind Lexa as she stood scrubbing dishes in the sink (there was no dishwasher) and pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. "I love you," she murmured. "Thank you for bringing me with you."

"Thank you for coming," Lexa said. 

"Anywhere," Clarke said, "any time."

"The same goes for you," Lexa told her. "You know that, right?"

"I know," Clarke said, although she couldn't imagine any circumstance that would lead to her taking Lexa on an unplanned road trip. But hey, once all of this was settled, once everyone was healthy and going to stay that way, she might just decide they should go somewhere, just for the hell of it. Why not? 

And that day was coming. It had to be. 

Luna came back into the kitchen as they were finishing up, leaving Adria still happily splashing in the bathtub. She pressed her lips together, not quite frowning. "You said your mother is the doctor who has the cu—the treatment. She's the one doing the research?"

Clarke nodded. "She is. She—"

"I want to talk to her," Luna said. "Before I decide anything, I want to talk to her." 

"Of course," Clarke said. She glanced at the clock on the wall (it looked like a ship's compass, naturally) and saw that it was late enough that her mother would definitely be up. Hopefully she wouldn't already be on her way to work. "I'll call her right now, if you want." Luna hesitated, then nodded. "Okay." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed. 

"I'll go check on Adria," Lexa said quietly and slipped out of the room. 

Her mom picked up on the second ring. "Hey sweetie," she said. "How are you?" A pause, and then, "Is everything all right? I thought you had class now."

"I'm fine," Clarke said. "Everything's fine. We just... we decided to start spring break a little early. We're actually..." She took a breath, centered herself. "We came to visit a friend of Lexa's. From when she was a kid. She—" She looked at Luna, and Luna nodded. "She and her brother both had Pramheda's, and she left after he died, but Lexa kept in—"

"Luna," Abby said. "Luna Waters." 

"Yes," Clarke said. 

"I've heard about her," Abby said. "I haven't met her, obviously. Is she all right?"

"She is," Clarke said. "She's fine. She just—Lexa told her about the treatment, and she wants to talk to you." 

"Of course," Abby said. "I would be happy to talk to her. Is she there now?"

Clarke nodded, then realized her mom couldn't hear that. "Is now okay?"

"Yes," Abby said. "The sooner the better."

"Okay," Clarke said, and handed the phone over. 

"Hi," Luna said. "This is Luna." And that was all Clarke heard of the conversation, because Luna left the kitchen and shut herself in her room... which was of course the room that Clarke and Lexa were staying in. Changing would have to wait, she guessed, and went to go see what Lexa and Adria were up to.

Luna was gone for a long time. Long enough that Adria started to get pruney, so Lexa lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a big towel, then took her to her room and helped her pick out an outfit to wear (a dress with rows of small fish printed along the hem and matching leggings), then carefully combed out her hair and pulled it back in little pigtails, accented with starfish-shaped barrettes. 

Adria was swaying back and forth in front of the mirror, beaming at herself, when Luna came in. She picked Adria up and hugged her, pressing her face into the curve of her neck before planting a kiss on her nose. "You look very nice," she said. "Did you pick that out yourself?"

"Lexa helped," Adria said. "She doed my hair!" 

"I see!" Luna said. "Your favorite barrettes!"

Adria nodded, then squirmed down out of Luna's arms to go digging in a small toy chest in the corner, pulling a few things out and plunking down on the floor to play with them. Luna tipped her head toward the door, and they followed her out.

"I'll go," she said, once they were away from Adria. "We'll go, I mean. I can't leave her. But I'll go. I'm still not – I haven't decided. But I heard enough that I'm willing to hear more. In person." 

Lexa threw her arms around Luna and squeezed her so tight Clarke wasn't sure if either of them could breathe. It was tempting to put her arms around both of them, because even though she knew what she felt couldn't hold a candle to what Lexa must be feeling, she still felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. 

Once it was decided, things started moving quickly... or as quickly as they could when there was a toddler involved. Clarke and Lexa got dressed, then packed up their things and went out to the car to start rearranging to make room for Luna and Adria and their stuff. Even though there was a car in the driveway, it was still registered in Adria's mother's name... in no small part because, although Luna knew how to drive, she didn't technically have a license, or even a permit. "Details," she said dismissively, trying to play it off like it was a joke, but Clarke suspected it was a detail that had gotten lost in the shuffle when her friend got sick. 

Another detail, she admitted, was that although Maya had created a will and named Luna Adria's guardian, nothing had been settled yet, officially. She didn't even know if there was anyone who might, upon hearing of Maya's death, contest the guardianship. Maya had never really talked about her family, but that didn't mean they didn't exist. Taking Adria anywhere was a bit of a gamble, but so was staying here, and like she'd said, she couldn't leave her. 

"Bring the paperwork," Lexa said. "Everything you have. I'm sure Abby – Dr. Griffin – can find someone who can help you with all of that." 

Luna glanced at Clarke, who nodded. "She'll help you," she said, "or she'll know someone who can. She's good like that." 

Luna nodded. "All right," she said. "Thank you." She pulled out several folders and carefully tucked them into her bag. 

They moved Adria's car seat from Maya's car to Lexa's, and Adria looked up at Luna, then tried to scale her, her mittened thumb pressed against her mouth as Luna lifted her. "No," she said. "I don't wanna." 

"You don't want to go on a trip?" Luna asked. "Why not?"

"Wanna stay here," Adria said. "Wanna stay with Mama."

Luna's eyes squeezed shut for a second, and her voice was thick when she spoke. "Mama's not here, little starfish. Mama's gone. But I'm still here, and—" Her voice caught. "We'll be together, okay? I'll be right next to you all the way, and you can teach Clarke and Lexa all of your favorite songs. Like Dory! What do we do when life gets us down?"

"Just keep swimmin'," Adria answered, sniffling. 

"Yup," Luna said. "And just like Marlin and Dory had to go on a long trip to find Nemo, we need to go on a long trip too. But I promise it will be fun, and there won't be _any_ jellyfish."

"Bad squishy!" Adria said. "Will there be turtles?"

"There will definitely be turtles," Clarke said. "Maybe not right when we get there, but we'll find them." She looked at Luna and winked, mouthing, 'At the aquarium.' 

"Duuuuuude," Adria said softly. She let herself be strapped into her car seat, and a few minutes later, they were on their way.

* * *

Traveling with a three-year-old, it turned out, meant stopping at pretty much every rest stop, either because she needed to use the bathroom or because she was getting restless and whiny and needed the chance to run around and burn off some energy. 

Clarke could tell that Lexa was getting frustrated with the snail's pace of the trip, even though she didn't say anything. "I would offer to give you a break from driving," Clarke said as they got back into the car after getting gas, "but unfortunately..." She gestured at the gear shift. 

"Right," Lexa said. "Summer project. Teach Clarke how to drive standard." She looked at Clarke sidelong and smirked. "I hope you at least appreciate the irony of which of us knows how to drive stick and which doesn't."

Clarke reached over and swatted her. "Pervert," she said.

"No!" Adria said. "Hands are for holding, not for hitting!"

"You heard her," Lexa said. 

"Now you say sorry, Clarke!"

"I'm sorry I hit you, Lexa," Clarke said. She leaned over and kissed her shoulder. "Does that make it all better?"

"Hmm," Lexa said. "I can think of—"

"Child!" Luna interrupted. "There is a child in the car."

Lexa grinned. "Fiiiiine," she said, and pulled back into traffic.

When they got close to home, Clarke called her mom again to see where she was. She figured it was probably better for Luna to meet her sooner than later, so she didn't have the opportunity to second guess herself or lose her nerve. 

"We're at the rink," Abby said. "You can come here if you want, or you can hang out at the house. We'll be home in an hour or so." 

"Okay," Clarke said. "I'll let you know." She looked over her shoulder at Luna, then at Lexa. "My house or the ice rink?" she asked. "My mom's watching Ontari practice, I guess, but she said they'll be home in an hour or so."

"Ice rink," Lexa said. "I want to see Ontari play." 

"That okay with you?" Clarke asked Luna. "Will she be okay?" Adria had fallen asleep about an hour ago, her head propped against the side of her car seat and her hand, thumb stuck out, resting on her chest. Clarke wasn't sure if she'd fallen asleep before it reached her mouth, or if Luna had wiggled it free after the fact. 

"She'll be fine," Luna said, "and it's okay with me. I'm not trying to get in the way of you two living your lives."

"You're not getting in the way," Lexa said, more sharply than she probably meant to. "Just... we want to help. Okay? We want what's best for you. Both of you."

"I know," Luna said softly, leaning forward to squeeze Lexa's arm. "I kind of want to see the Terror on Two Blades, too." 

Clarke laughed. "From what I've heard, that's pretty accurate."

"I never had any doubt," Luna said. 

The pulled into the rink's lot about ten minutes later, and Luna nudged Adria awake. The little girl grumbled and whimpered when Luna lifted her out of her seat, but the whining increased when she set her down. In the end, she gave in and carried her into the rink, Adria's pouting face planted firmly in the collar of her coat. 

Clarke looked around, finally spotting her mom sitting in a row of seats a little way back from the ice, her laptop in her lap but her attention on the figures charging back and forth across the ice at breakneck speed. She led Lexa and Luna over, and reached down to tap her mother's shoulder. 

Abby jumped and looked up, her hand pressed to her heart. "Oh!" she said. "You startled me. I assumed when you didn't text that you were going to the house."

"Oops," Clarke said. "I forgot. I didn't mean to scare you. Mom, this is Luna. Luna, my mom. Dr. Abby Griffin." 

Abby looked past Clarke, and stopped in the middle of closing her laptop, frozen, as she stared at Luna. Or, more specifically, at Adria. "Is she—"

"Mine?" Luna asked. "Biologically, no. But for all intents and purposes, yes."

"I was going to say, 'a patient'," Abby said, her voice thin. 

"Oh," Luna said. "No. Her blood is as red as it comes, as we discovered rather spectacularly when she was learning to walk and took a header into the coffee table. She still has a scar. Don't you, starfish?" 

Adria turned her head to look at her, her thumb in her mouth, but when she caught sight of the players on the ice she pulled it out with a pop. "Lulu!" she said. "Penguins!" Except when she said it it sounded like pen-a-wins. 

They looked, and sure enough, emblazoned on the girls' jerseys were big hockey-playing penguins. "That's the team name," Abby explained. "The Polis Penguins." 

"Which one is Ontari?" Lexa asked. 

"Number 17." Abby watched the ice for a moment, then pointed. "Over there. She's not officially part of the team yet, since their season is just about done, but they already treat her like she is." 

They watched for a moment, Adria getting more and more excited until she finally squirmed out of Luna's arms and ran down the steps to the Plexiglas barrier between her and the penguins, only to discover that she was too short to see over the solid part of the wall.

"I've got it," Lexa said, and followed her down, picking her up so that she could keep watching. 

"What's her name?" Abby asked. 

"Adria," Luna said. 

"Like Adrianne?" 

"Like Adriatic," Luna corrected. "Her mother wanted to name her Ocean, but I vetoed that." She smiled and shrugged. 

"Where's her mother now?" Abby asked. 

"Dead," Luna said. "Cancer. A few weeks ago." 

"I'm sorry," Abby said. 

"Me too." Luna sighed. "It's complicated. Maybe I should have told you before, but I just..." She frowned. "I don't know. She's why I have to do this. She's also why I can't do this. If I do it, I might die. If I don't, I _will_ die. But we don't know when. I've already made it longer than anyone, and—" Luna shook her head. "She didn't want to come here," she said. "She wanted to stay with Mama, even though she knows Mama is gone. I'm not sure she understands she's never coming back. And when she said that, I told her... I almost told her that I would never leave her. And then I realized I couldn't make that promise. That yes, there's a chance that this might save me, but there's also a chance it might kill me. Right now. And... and I hate her for it. Not Adria. Maya. I hate her for putting me in this position. Even if she didn't know. She didn't know I was sick, but even if I wasn't, it wasn't fair of her to make me a mother when I'm barely more than a kid myself, but I promised, and I'm all she has, and..." She gulped, swiping at her eyes again. "I love her. I love Adria like she's my own, and she _is_ my own now, and I need to stay in her life. It's just really fucking complicated."

"I understand," Abby said. "I do. The good news is that you're healthy. Like we discussed, I'll want to run some baseline tests, but right now, you're healthy, which means you have time to get everything sorted out, as much as it can be, before you make any potentially life-altering decisions. Any _more_ potentially life-altering decisions, I should say." 

Luna nodded, and Abby smiled at her. "We're partners in this," Abby said. "We're going to work together to find the best possible solution for you and your daughter. All right?"

Luna nodded again. "Thank you."

"Of course," Abby said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of tissues. "Kind of necessary around here even when you aren't doing any emotional heavy-lifting." 

They were interrupted by the shrill screech of the coach's whistle and the sound of her bellowing, "Girls, I need you to focus up! Don't get distracted! Yes, she's adorable, but we've got ten minutes left, and I need you to give it your all. So let's get going!"

They looked over and saw probably a third of the team turning away guiltily from watching Adria and waving to her. Luna started to laugh. "I swear we didn't come to cause trouble," she said. "Should I go get her?"

Abby shook her head. "They're teenagers. They get distracted. It's on them to learn how to control that. Let her have fun."

"I think I'll go check on her anyway," Luna said, walking away without waiting for an answer. Clarke thought it probably had more to do with not wanting to talk anymore about things that upset her than really needing to check on Adria, who was perfectly content in Lexa's arms. 

Clarke sat down next to her mother. "We didn't know either," she said, "when we went. About Adria."

"It complicates things," Abby said. "Not medically, but... it's a tough decision, and not one that I'm going to take lightly. But I meant what I told her. We're partners. She needs me, but I need her, too." 

Clarke looked at her. "Need her for what?"

"She's legally an adult. So is Lexa, but we had to give her the treatment in an emergency, which meant there was no opportunity for any kind of testing. With Luna, we can see what happens if we use it in a controlled environment. And I can get samples of her blood – with her consent, of course – to run tests on before we do that. I can get them from the kids, too, but they're kids, and I don't want to become to them what Nia was to Ontari." 

"You could never—" Clarke started, but her mom shook her head. 

"I hope not," she said. "But good intentions only go so far."

"Mom..."

"I'm close, Clarke. Very close. We know that it's worked in our two uncontrolled tests, but that's not... that's not enough to risk the lives of children on. But it has to be up to her. She's a human being, not a lab rat." 

"She wants to live, Mom," Clarke said. 

"I know, sweetie. And that's the most important thing."

Practice ended, and many of the girls immediately skated over the side of the rink to coo over Adria, who seemed more than a little excited to be surrounded by all of the penguins. Ontari hovered at the edge of the group, scowling and grinding the blade of her stick against the ice. 

"I wanna be a pen-a-win!" Adria announced as Clarke made her way down to join Lexa and Luna, and the girls squealed. "I wanna go onna ice!" She started making swooshing noises, which led to another chorus of 'awwww's. 

"Can we?" one of the girls asked. "I mean can she?"

"We would be really careful," another one said. 

"I have a little sister," a third announced, "and I helped her learn to skate, so she would totally be safe with us."

Luna hesitated, but finally acquiesced, and several girls charged off to go get her a pair of skates, crashing into each other in their haste. Luna looked at Lexa and Clarke, her eyebrows raised, as if to ask, 'Is that what they consider careful?'

"We're just going to go change," one of the girls said. "We'll be right back." They headed for the locker room to shed a few layers of pads, leaving only Ontari behind. 

"The prodigal returns," she said dryly. 

"Ontari," Lexa warned. "Don't start." 

"I'm not starting anything," Ontari said. "I was just making an observation. Is that not allowed now?"

"Shouldn't you go get changed, too?" Lexa asked. 

"Whatever," Ontari said, and skated away, following the last of her teammates into the locker room.

"As charming as ever," Luna said. 

"She's not always like that," Clarke said. 

"Sometimes she's worse?" Lexa joked. 

"Sometimes," Clarke said, remembering the way she'd torn up the guest room. "But no. My mom says she's doing better. She's just..." Clarke shrugged.

"I know," Lexa said. "It's just hard to be understanding sometimes when she goes out of her way to make you want to grab her by the shoulders and shake until the attitude falls out." 

"Because you were so perfect when you were that age?" Luna asked. "She's the reason Titus is bald, you know. He used to have a full head of hair, but teenage Lexa made her tear it all out." 

Lexa laughed. "Lies," she said. "Bald-faced lies. Pun-intended."

The girls came back with the skates, and soon they had Adria up and on the ice, where she did look very much like a penguin, waddling more than gliding with one girl on either side of her to help keep her up. The ice started to fill up with people who had come for the free skate, and Lexa put her hand on Luna's back. "She's fine," she told her. "They've got her."

"I know," Luna said. "I just..."

"I know," Lexa said. "They may not be my responsibility like Adria is yours, but..."

"Yeah," Luna said. She leaned into Lexa, who put her arm around her, and then reached out to pull Clarke in against her other side, and they stood there and watched Adria get towed around, the girls who had so recently been clobbering pucks (and occasionally each other) turned gentle as could be with her holding their hands.

"Look, Lulu!" Adria called. "Look at me!"

"I see, little starfish!" Luna called back. 

"PEN-A-WIN!" Adria insisted.

"I see, little penguin," Luna said, and Adria's smile lit up the rink. 

One by one, though, the players' parents arrived and they had to leave, until there were only a few left and their rides were getting impatient. "Here," one of them said, grabbing Ontari and tugging her hand down to take Adria's. "I gotta go."

"I don't—" Ontari started, but it was too late. Her face fixed in a scowl and she began to shuffle along on her blades. "Come on," she said. "Time to—"

Someone went whizzing by and Adria startled, her feet going out from under her. She landed hard, her hand still clutched in Ontari's, and she started to wail. Lexa grabbed Luna before she could vault over the wall to get to her, reminding her that she couldn't go onto the ice in her shoes. 

"Just bring her here," Clarke called to Ontari. "She'll be fine."

But when Ontari tried to pull her up, Adria screeched louder, and Ontari's hands came up to her ears for a second, shaking her head. 

"Just pick her up," Clarke said. "Come on, Ontari. Just crouch down and pick her up." 

Ontari did as she was told, bringing Adria to the open panel that let them off the rink, and practically shoved Adria into Luna's arms. "I didn't do anything," she said. "It wasn't my fault!" 

"We know," Clarke said. She saw her mother coming toward them, probably intent on checking Adria out to make sure she really was okay. "She's probably just scared."

"Well it's not my fault," Ontari said again. "I didn't even want to do it. I—"

"We _know_ ," Clarke repeated. "It was an accident. Accidents happen."

"They probably think I did it on purpose. I know you all think I'm a bitch, that I'm a horrible person, but—"

"No one thinks that, Ontari," Clarke said. "Why don't you go take your skates off, get ready to go home? And while you're at it, can you return Adria's skates?" She reached into the huddle of bodies surrounding the little girl to retrieve them from where they'd been unceremoniously dumped on the floor and handed them to Ontari. "By the time you come back, everything will be fine."

Ontari took the skates and stomped off, muttering loudly about how it wasn't her fault and she hadn't wanted anything to do with the stupid kid and she wasn't a monster no matter what they thought, and...

"Is she okay?" Clarke asked, but no one was paying attention to her. Luna was holding Adria tightly while Abby gripped her arm, extending it and shifting her shoulder while Adria screamed, and then went quiet as it popped back into the socket. 

"There," Abby said. "I bet that feels a whole lot better, doesn't it?"

Adria nodded and shoved her thumb into her mouth, her other hand tangling in Luna's curls, still sniffling as the last of her tears made their way down her cheeks. 

"I'll call a friend of mine," Abby said. "She's an orthopedist. I'm pretty confident that everything is back where it should be, but it can't hurt to have someone whose specialty it is check."

Luna nodded, pressing her cheek against Adria's hair, ducking head to try to hide the fact that her own face was streaked with tears. She leaned back against Lexa, who wrapped her arms around her from behind, hugging them both. 

"That was more excitement than any of us needed," Clarke said, and Lexa flashed her a small smile. "But she'll be okay. My mom knows what she's doing."

Luna nodded again. "I shouldn't have let her go out there," she said. "I should have known—"

"Kids get hurt," Lexa said. "It's part of growing up. Which would you rather have? Tears because she got hurt, or tears because she didn't get to go out there and be a penguin?"

"Neither," Luna said. "I vote for no tears."

"I don't think it works like that," Clarke said. "She was having fun, right up until that moment. And hopefully she'll remember that more than she'll remember getting an owie." She shrugged. "Maybe that's what your job is... to remind her of the good parts to help her get through the bad." 

"Maybe," Luna said. She kissed Adria's head. "Maybe even little penguins fall down sometimes."

"Oh, they do," Lexa said. "Trust me, I've seen the videos online." She grinned. 

Abby came over. "All right," she said. "She was about to leave for the day, but she said she'd stay a little longer to check her out, so we should get going."

"Where's Ontari?" Clarke asked. 

"She's going to hang out with some of the girls from the team," Abby said. "They usually go out after practice on Friday if they don't have a game the next day."

"Are you sure?" Clarke asked. "She was pretty upset. Aren't you afraid she might just... run off?"

Her mother looked at her with a crooked smile. "I'm terrified she'll just run off," Abby said. "But I have to learn to trust her, just like she has to learn to trust me. It's a calculated risk. I know that the girls go out after practice, so that much, at least, is not a lie. And I know she was upset, and I decided that giving her the opportunity to have some space to calm down, blow off some steam, was probably a better bet than forcing her to stay at the scene of the crime, so to speak, feeling like everyone was looking at her and blaming her for what happened." 

"No one—"

"I know, sweetie," Abby said. "But she doesn't. And I've learned arguing with her when she's upset is a surefire way to make things worse. I'll talk to her later. Right now, we need to go."

They went out to the parking lot, where Luna carefully strapped Adria back into her seat. They followed her mom's car to the office building where her friend had her practice and went inside. 

The woman looked Adria over, moving her arm gently and feeling the joint. "We'll do a quick X-ray to be sure," she said, "but everything feels fine. My guess it was a subluxation rather than a full dislocation. It happens pretty often with little kids on ice skates. Someone's holding their hand, they slip and fall, and the shoulder gets yanked out of place. Ouch."

"Ouch," Adria agreed. 

They left a little while later with Adria's arm in a sling and a smiley-face sticker stuck to her shirt, and she seemed almost completely recovered from the incident. She settled back into her car seat, humming to herself, with occasional lyrics that seemed to consist entirely of the word 'penguin'. 

"How does everyone feel about Italian?" Abby asked when they got back to the house. They still hadn't figured out where Luna and Adria were going to stay, but they knew that there was no food at Lexa's house, so when her mom had invited them to come over for dinner, they'd agreed. 

"Sounds good," Clarke said, and Lexa and Luna nodded. 

"Anything in particular that she likes?" Abby asked, looking at Adria, who had promptly settled on the floor with some of the toys that Luna had packed. 

"Anything with shrimp," Luna said. "Shrimp are her favorite food in the whole entire world. Just ask her." 

Abby laughed. "I'll take your word for it. Shrimp it is. Clarke? Chicken marsala like you always get?"

"There is nothing wrong with always getting the same thing if it's good," Clarke said, an argument they'd jokingly been having for years. 

"Sure," Abby said, "if you don't mind being boring." She handed the menu to Lexa and Luna to decide what they wanted, then called in the order. Clarke got water for everyone and they settled into the living room to wait. Clarke and Lexa got her mom caught up on how things were going at school, and they talked about – or sort of around – what the next steps were for Luna, now that she was here. They agreed that at least for the week, it made sense for Luna and Adria to stay at Lexa's apartment, which meant that Clarke and Lexa would be staying here. The idea didn't thrill Clarke, but it seemed less likely to end in disaster than forcing Ontari to live with a three-year-old... or Luna to live with Ontari. The last thing she needed right now was more stress and drama.

They moved to the table when the food arrived, and Adria made a mess of herself trying to eat one-handed. Luna hadn't been kidding out how much she liked shrimp. They disappeared from her plate faster than Clarke could have imagined a child her age could eat, and she had to be reminded to eat some of her noodles, too. 

Ontari arrived home as they were finishing up, and she looked ready to slink upstairs when Abby called, "There's food if you haven't eaten, and a cannoli for you if you have." 

Ontari stopped with her foot on the stairs, clearly torn, then trudged toward them. "I ate," she said. "But I'll take the cannoli." 

"Not upstairs, you won't," Abby said. Ontari looked ready to object, but Abby held up a hand. "You can take it the living room, but not upstairs."

"Fine," Ontari said. She took the pastry into the living room and flopped down on the couch. 

While they were distracted clearing the table and putting dishes in the dishwasher, Adria followed Ontari and climbed up onto the couch. "You sad?" she asked. "Don't be sad. Be happy!" She peeled the sticker from her shirt and pasted it onto Ontari's chest, then slid back down to the floor. She started to waddle, flapping her arm in its sling like it was a wing. "Look, I'm a pen-a-win!" 

Ontari snorted. "You sure are," she said. She swallowed, biting her lip. "I'm sorry you got hurt," she said. "I didn't mean to let you fall."

"I okay," Adria said. "Don't worry."

"Okay," Ontari said. She glanced up at Luna. "I, uh, got her something. Even though it's not my fault. Even though I didn't do anything."

"I know," Luna said. "We know you wouldn't ever want her to get hurt. You didn't have to get her anything, though."

"It's not really anything," Ontari said. "Just something one of my fr—one of the girls on the team had from back when she first started playing like a million years ago, and her mom kept it I guess. I dunno why. But she said I could have it, give it to, uh—"

"Adria," Luna said. "Her name is Adria."

"Right. That I could give it to Adria. Since she liked being a penguin so much." She got up and went to the bag she'd dumped in the entryway and pulled out a bundle of cloth, holding it out to Luna.

"You can give it to her," Luna said. "It's from you." 

Ontari wrinkled her nose, then leaned down and offered it to Adria. "This is for you," she said. 

Adria took it and let it unfurl, and her face lit up. "PEN-A-WIN!" she squealed, hugging it and dancing around in a circle. "Lulu! On!" She held it up, shaking it insistently until Luna put it on her, right over the sling. Her other hand didn't even stick out of the sleeve and it nearly reached the floor, but she spun ecstatically in her very own Polis Penguins jersey. 

"What do you say?" Luna prompted. 

"THANK YOU!" Adria said, hurling herself at Ontari's legs and squeezing her one-armed around the knees. 

"You're welcome," Ontari mumbled. She looked at Abby. "Can I go now?"

"You can go," Abby said, her expression soft. Clarke thought there might even be a few tears in her eyes. "Careful of crumbs."

"I vacuum every week anyway," Ontari grumbled. She took the plate with her pastry and retreated upstairs. Clarke braced herself for the door slam that would almost certainly follow, but instead it just clicked quietly shut. 

"Progress," she said, to no one in particular. 

Her mom smiled. "She's not a bad kid," she said. "She's really not. She's just... like a feral cat that you've brought inside for the first time. She doesn't understand how any of this works. But she's learning. We both are."

 _We all are,_ Clarke thought. She'd always thought of herself as someone who came from a small family – just her, her mom and her dad – but as she looked around, she realized that that was quickly changing. Maybe it should have made her nervous, considering that the more people she let in, the more people she could potentially lose, but it wasn't as if she could change it. It wasn't as if she could take back the parts of her heart that she'd given to Lexa, or Madi or Aden or Luna or Adria or yeah, even Ontari. 

And she didn't want to. 

"I should take them home," Lexa said. "Let them get settled in." 

"Are you going to come back?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa raised an eyebrow. "When I have the opportunity to sleep on my own couch?" She grinned. "Yes, I'm coming back. It might be a little while... we'll need to do some shopping, or I will, but I'll be back to tuck you in." She slipped her arms around Clarke's hips and drew her in, kissing her softly.

"Gross," Luna said. At the dirty looks they shot her, she just grinned. "Come on," she said. " _Someone_ had to say it, and Ontari already went upstairs. What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't remind you at every turn why you didn't miss me at all?"

"You know that's not true," Lexa said. 

"I know," Luna said, sobering. "But it's easier to pretend that it is."

Lexa nodded. "Come on," she said, catching the still bouncing Adria and lifting her into her arms, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Let's get you home."


	12. Chapter 12

Once the door closed behind Lexa, Luna, and Adria, stillness enveloped the house and it suddenly felt like too much space for just three people, even though it was fairly modestly-sized. Her parents had never felt the need to flaunt their financial success by buying the sort of mini mansion that some of their colleagues had invested in... and in some cases regretted when they realized the cost of maintaining it. Clarke remembered hearing her friend Wells' father griping about the heating bill every time they'd cranked up the thermostat a degree or two during the coldest ways of winter. 

She went to the kitchen to help her mother put away the last of the leftovers and get the dishes into the dishwasher. When it was full, Abby programmed it to run while they were all sleeping. "I should go get that last plate from Ontari," she said. Clarke knew it was just an excuse to go check on the girl, but that was her job now, wasn't it? 

It was strange to think of her mom as someone else's mother now – or too, really, since she didn't stop being Clarke's mother just because she'd gone off to college and was only home for a couple months out of the year. It wasn't a bad feeling, just one that Clarke wasn't used to. 

Clarke found herself pacing from room to room, unable to settle on anything. She had the thought that she could start her laundry, which she'd allowed to pile up knowing she would be able to do it when she got home, only to realize that her bags were still in Lexa's car. She finally decided to take a shower since she hadn't gotten one that morning. It would kill time while she waited for Lexa and maybe clear her head.

Ontari's door was cracked open as she walked past, and she saw Ontari sprawled facedown on the bed, her mother sitting next to her rubbing gentle circles on her back. She heard the murmur of voices but couldn't pick out the words. It was none of her business anyway, really. She hoped that whatever her mother was saying would convince Ontari that what had happened at the rink with Adria wasn't her fault and no one blamed her or was mad at her. 

Clarke grabbed fresh pajamas from her drawer, glad that she hadn't brought all of them to school (even if the ones that hadn't made the cut were a little worse for the wear) and shut herself in the bathroom. She started the water running and climbed in once it was warm, reaching for shampoo only to find that it had been replaced by a different bottle. It took her a minute to find hers on the floor outside the tub. A flash of irritation shot through her, followed by a wave of amusement. So this was what her friends who had grown up with brothers and sisters were always complaining about. 

As hard as it was to think of her mom as someone else's mom, it was even harder to think of herself as a sister. How often did someone legally considered an adult suddenly acquire a sibling only a few years younger than themselves? But that was the reality, and the sooner she got her head wrapped around it, the better, because it wasn't going to change.

Clarke didn't want it to change. She knew that this was the best place for Ontari to be. The _only_ place, really, but still the best.

It made her think about Luna, and the impossible situation that Maya had put her in with Adria. Luna had been right when she'd said that it wasn't fair to force Luna into being a parent at nineteen, sick or not. But that was _her_ reality, and now she had to weigh her own needs against the needs of a helpless child who had no one else.

Which made Clarke wonder who would take care of her if something happened to Luna. Not that anything was going to happen; the treatment had worked on Lexa and Ontari, and Clarke refused to acknowledge any other possible outcome when her mother gave it to Luna. Because the truth was she already knew who would take care of Adria: Lexa.

Lexa would take her in and raise her because she wouldn't see any other possibility. It didn't matter what it would do to her own plans for the future. After all, they were still only just beginning to take shape as she came to terms with the fact that for the first time in her life she really did have a future to plan for. 

So if things didn't go the way they wanted them to, the way they were supposed to, and Adria was left motherless again, Lexa would step in to fill that void, and whatever plans she made would be around the little girl. 

Which would leave Clarke with a choice to make, and her head and heart ached just thinking about it. 

It wasn't that she didn't want kids. Her childhood imaginings of her future hadn't centered around a house and kids and a white picket fence, but she was pretty sure they were there in the background, something she wanted _someday_. After spending time with Lexa and the little Nightbloods over the last few months, when she pictured their future together kids were always part of the it. How could they not be? When she let her imagination wander, it was easy to conjure up snapshots from a future family album: Lexa at the kitchen table helping their son with his homework, their daughter hunched over her latest masterpiece with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth, then proudly presenting to Clarke to hang on the refrigerator. All of them making breakfast together, or cookies, or something else that involved flour all over the counters and dotted on noses and cheeks. Movie nights and bedtime stories and LEGOs under the Christmas tree and hands and faces sticky with ice cream as it dripped from a cone in the summer...

But in those pictures she and Lexa were older. They'd finished college, started their careers, settled into their relationship together. Maybe they'd even gotten married. Never mind the fact that in her mental photo album their kids bore a striking resemblance to Aden and Madi as they appeared now... that was just because those were the kids that Clarke knew best and was closest to. It didn't mean anything.

Only... what would happen to them? If they were treated, if they were cured... what happened then? 

Lexa had told her that a few of the kids still had contact with their parents, although it was limited and infrequent. She said that those parents seemed to think of where their child lived as a sort of medically necessary boarding school situation. Clarke assumed that if – when – those kids were cured, they would finally be able to go home. But the rest of them?

Clarke tried to think about something else. If she let herself go too far down that road, knowing that she didn't and wouldn't have any answers, she would just end up upset. It had been too long a day for all of them for that to be what Lexa came back to. She turned off the water and stepped out of tub, toweling off as best she could before slipping into her pajamas, then wrapped the towel around her hair before cracking open the door.

Her mother was leaving Ontari's room just as she stepped out, and she smiled. Clarke forced herself to smile back. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Abby said, coming toward her. Clarke retreated into her room and her mom followed, leaving the door open partway like she thought Ontari might need her and she wanted to be able to hear her if she called. "She's worried about Adria and upset that she got hurt under her watch, but of course she can't just say that." Abby laughed softly and shook her head. "She really is a good kid."

"I know," Clarke said. She'd seen flashes of it, and it wasn't as hard to guess what was going on behind Ontari's mask of indifference and anger as the teenager probably wanted to think. "She kept saying that she knew we all thought she'd done it on purpose, that we thought she was a monster."

Abby sighed. "We're working on that. Her tendency to put thoughts into other people's heads and act accordingly. I think it's easier for her to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than to give people the benefit of the doubt and be disappointed." 

"Except she gets stuck in the assuming the worst phase," Clarke said. 

"I know. Like I said, we're working on it. And she _is_ trying. Day to day... it's gotten a lot better. But then something big happens and she falls back into those old patterns. Most people do, really. It's easier and feels safer." 

"So you think she's going to stay?" Clarke asked. "For good?"

"I hope so," Abby said. "It's only a few years until she's eighteen, but I've tried to make it clear – without being pushy about it because it's likely to only push her away – that I don't see her eighteenth birthday as some kind of deadline."

"Are you thinking about—" Clarke stopped, biting the inside of her lip, not sure if she should even ask, because putting it into words would make it real, which wasn't a _bad_ thing, just a big one and maybe one she wasn't quite prepared for. 

"Thinking about what?" Abby asked.

Clarke forced herself to look up and meet her mother's eyes. Not as a challenge, but because she didn't want either of them to be able to hide from this. "Making it permanent?"

"We haven't gotten that far," Abby said. "I'm not sure we ever will. She's... skittish about letting herself get attached to anyone. Which isn't exactly unsurprising." She sat down on the edge of Clarke's bed and patted the space beside her. Clarke hesitated, then sat down. "One day she was at the hospital with me, doing her schoolwork while I did my own work, and I let her go get some lunch. She came back with a boy in tow – a young man – and it seemed innocent enough, but he got increasingly persistent and I finally came out of my office and told him that he needed to leave her alone. Except what I actually said was, 'I'm going to need you to get away from my daughter.'" 

Clarke blinked at the words – or word, really, and Abby smiled. "Exactly," she said. "I didn't even think about it. I didn't even realize I'd said it. But that night at dinner, Ontari wanted to know why I'd said what I'd said, and I thought she was angry because I stepped in rather than letting her deal with the guy herself, and I tried to explain but she just got more and more agitated until she finally shut down. Then that night after I'd gone to bed, she came into my room and finally demanded to know why I'd said _that word_ \- because of course she hadn't actually said at dinner what she was so upset about – and how she wasn't you, and she said that she didn't want to stay here anymore. To which I told her that I didn't think that was true, that I thought she actually very much wanted to stay here, and that scared her, so she wanted to run away from it. Which of course only made her angrier." She paused, wincing a little. "It was the first time I was ever genuinely afraid of her. I didn't know what she was going to do. But then she just broke down, and finally let go of a lot of what she'd been carrying, and it's been better since then. All of which is to say that it's a bit of a touchy subject."

It didn't feel great hearing that her mother had been scared of the girl that she'd taken in. Clarke had seen the aftermath of one of Ontari's tantrums, seen that she'd been completely unafraid to knock someone down on the ice out of pure spite the very first time she'd met her, so it wasn't a stretch to imagine her mom being concerned that she might resort to violence when she had gotten herself worked up. But if her mom said that things were better now, Clarke had to believe her, right? 

Abby reached out and rubbed Clarke's back. "I know," she said. "There hasn't been another incident like that since, and the fact of the matter is that even though I think she might have wanted to hit me in that moment, to try to push me away with what she thought was the strongest tool she had available to her, she _didn't_. She stopped herself, made a different choice."

Clarke nodded. "I just want everything to be okay," she said softly. "I want every _one_ to be okay."

"I hear you," Abby said. "I want the same thing. And I'm working on it. I'm doing everything I can."

"I know," Clarke said. "Just... it doesn't end with the cure. Treatment. It doesn't end with their blood turning red. Really, that's where it begins, because then they have their whole lives ahead of them that they never really expected to have."

Her mother sighed. "I know. But I have no intention of leaving them stranded with that, and I don't think anyone else does, either. We will provide them as much support as they need, in whatever form that takes." She looked at Clarke and added, "The adults, I mean. That's not something that you have to take on. It's not your responsibility."

"I'm an adult too," Clarke said, maybe a little more peevishly than she meant to. 

"You are," Abby conceded, "but it's still not your responsibility."

Clarke sighed, but didn't argue. Maybe it wasn't her responsibility, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the weight of it pressing down her, just like Lexa felt responsible for the younger Nightbloods and now Luna, and by proxy Adria.

"It's going to be okay," Abby told her. "I—"

"Don't," Clarke said. "Don't make promises you don't know if you can keep."

Abby pressed her lips together and nodded. "I promise I will do everything in my power," she said. "How's that?"

"Okay," Clarke said. 

"Okay," Abby echoed. "I have a few things I have to get done, but if you need me for anything, please don't hesitate."

"Thanks, Mom," Clarke said. She let her mother hug her, returning the embrace but letting go before she was ready. Which seemed to be the story of their lives these days; everything was happening too soon and too fast and they were left scrambling to keep up.

* * *

Lexa slid into bed beside Clarke hours later. She'd kept her posted via text about what was happening, but it was still a relief to have her girlfriend back at her side. She tucked a bookmark into her book and set it aside, rolling to face Lexa. 

She was immediately pulled into a kiss. "I love you," Lexa breathed, the words soft and sweet against Clarke's lips. "I love you so much." 

"I love you too," Clarke said, and then neither of them said anything for a long time, and they forced themselves to stay quiet even as each touch, each kiss, each deft stroke of the finger and flick of the tongue seemed to demand otherwise. Clarke's body writhed and bucked beneath Lexa's as she coaxed and then demanded her final climax, and they collapsed sweaty and tangled beneath the rumpled covers, clinging to each other so hard it almost hurt, the desperation of their lovemaking having only just dulled the edge of their need for each other in that moment.

Clarke didn't ask if Lexa was okay; she knew that she wasn't. Lexa knew the same and kept equally silent, and it was all right. They didn't need to say what they both knew. "I love you," Clarke whispered, over and over again as sleep wrapped its fingers around them, and Lexa whispered it back until it finally dragged them down.

* * *

Morning dawned gray and gloomy, spring rain soaking the ground. April showers brought May flowers, but it was only March and the only thing that was growing outside now was mudpuddles. Clarke burrowed her nose into the back of Lexa's shoulder, not realizing how cold it was until Lexa woke with a startled gasp, and then laughed as she twined her fingers through Clarke's and brought them to her lips. "Good morning," she said.

"Let's pretend it's not," Clarke said. "Let's just stay in bed all day."

Lexa laughed again. She let go of Clarke's hands so she could roll over and pressed a kiss to the tip of her icy nose. "I wish we could," she said. "Believe me, I do. But remember where we are, and why." 

Clarke hadn't forgotten, exactly... she'd just conveniently put the thought aside. But Lexa had dragged it back out into the light of day (if what was happening outside the window could even be called that) and she had to face it. "Buzzkill," she said. 

"I know," Lexa said. She glanced at the clock on Clarke's nightstand. "I guess we could pretend for a _few_ more minutes..." she drawled, and then disappeared underneath the covers, and Clarke had to all but clamp a pillow over her face to keep from alerting the entire house to the fact that they were awake.

* * *

Lexa's phone buzzed while they were eating breakfast (which was closer to brunch by now, but they were showered and dressed so that counted for something, right?) and she laughed and turned the screen so Clarke could see.

**Luna:** Adria hasn't forgotten that you promised her turtles.

Clarke grinned. "We can go find her some turtles," she said. "Although on a rainy Saturday, the place might be packed."

Lexa typed a message back to Luna, and after a few more exchanges they had decided to take their chances. What else were they going to do with an energetic, ocean-obsessed three-year-old on a rainy day? 

"I realized I didn't bring the stroller," Luna said when they arrived to pick them up. "I guess I didn't think about the possibility of needing it, and there wasn't really room."

"I'm pretty sure they have them to rent if we need one," Clarke said. 

Luna nodded, but there was something pinched in her expression and Clarke suspected she was thinking about the added cost. Lexa must have noticed too because she reached out to touch Luna's arm gently. "We've got it," she said. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't need—"

"It was our idea," Lexa said. "Just... let us do this."

Luna didn't look happy, but she relented. She picked up Adria, who was wearing her Polis Penguins jersey even though it was far too big ("She insisted," was Luna's exasperated explanation) and carried her out to the car, settling her into her seat. 

Adria looked around. "Where Big Pen-a-win?" she asked, frowning as she craned her head around as if she might spot the missing... creature? if she looked hard enough.

"Who?" Luna asked, trying to still her squirming enough to get the various straps snapped into place, a process further complicated by the fact that Adria's arm was still in a sling. 

"Big Pen-a-win!" Adria insisted, pointing to her chest. 

"Big... you mean Ontari?" Lexa asked. "The one who gave you your shirt?"

"Yes," Adria said, jabbing at her shirt again. "Where she is?"

"She's at home," Clarke said. 

Adria poked out her lower lip and crossed her free arm over her chest. "No fair," she said. 

"We didn't know you wanted her to come," Lexa said. "Maybe next time, okay? We don't have enough room in this car for another person."

Adria continued to pout, and Luna just rolled her eyes and shrugged. "She'll get over it," she said softly. 

"I think there might be real P-E-N-G-U-I-N-S at the aquarium," Clarke said, spelling out the word so that Adria wouldn't understand in case she was wrong. She didn't want her to get her hopes up. "Unless that's the one that's farther away."

"I guess we'll find out," Luna said. She climbed into the back next to Adria and tickled her until she stopped sulking. 

Clarke was glad to see that there wasn't too much of a line to get in; maybe she'd been wrong about this being a popular rainy-day destination, or maybe they'd just gotten lucky. They got their tickets and noted where the stroller rental was but decided that for now they would see how Adria did walking. If she got tired (or they got tired of chasing after her) they could always come back. 

Lexa grabbed a map and flipped it open, grinning as she pointed to the section that was clearly labeled 'Penguin Encounter'. "What do you want to see first?" she asked Adria.

"TURTLE!" Adria said. 

"Okay," Luna said, taking her hand. "Let's go find some turtles."

In the big central tank there was a sea turtle that was so old the staff didn't even know exactly how old she was, and so big that even Clarke, who had seen her before, boggled slightly. Somehow she always forgot just how big sea turtles actually were, or could be. 

"Duuuuuude," Adria said, her tone awed and reverent. 

Lexa bit her lip to keep from laughing. "She's not wrong," she said quietly. 

After the sea turtle they found some other turtles, and then sharks and fish and even some jellyfish ("Bad squishy!") before they made their way to a tide pool where children could reach in to the frigid water and touch sea urchins and rays and starfish and horsehoe crabs if they wanted to. Adria made a beeline for it and climbed up on one of the little boxes that were positioned so that smaller kids could reach. Luna managed to catch her before she thrust her arm, sleeve and all, into the water, and rolled it up as best she could, standing behind Adria to try to avert disaster.

"Remember, Starfish," she said, "you have to be gentle."

"Gentle," Adria echoed, and reached down into the water. One of the employees came over to show her the different creatures, even lifting up one starfish and turning it over so that she could see all of the tiny legs on its underside. "That's me!" Adria said proudly. "I'm Starfish!" 

The employee smiled. "That's an unusual name," she said. 

"Her name is actually Adria," Luna explained. "I just call her Starfish, because that's the shape she is when she sleeps. Right?" She leaned down to kiss her head, and Adria tipped up her face and beamed. "She loves all things that come from the ocean."

"Uh-uh," Adria said. "I do not. Bad squishy!" 

"Except for jellyfish," Luna said. "She doesn't like jellyfish." 

"Some jellyfish can't sting people," the woman said. "Did you know that? Some jellyfish can only sting other fish. But if you see a jellyfish, it's better to stay away, just in case."

Clarke looked over at Lexa, following her gaze as she looked longingly at the tank. It was only then that she realized that it was possible Lexa had never been to an aquarium before. The activities that the Nightbloods got to do were limited, given the fact that they had to be so overly cautious about who and what they were exposed to. Even after she'd grown up and moved out and could therefore decide what risks she was willing to take for her herself, it didn't mean it would have occurred to her to do the things that she'd missed out on as a kid. 

"It's not just for kids," Clarke said, nudging her gently with an elbow. "You can do it too." 

Lexa looked at her and shook her head, one corner of her mouth tipping up in a sad smile. "It's all right," she said. "I don't want to keep one of the kids from having a turn."

"You won't keep them from having a turn," Clarke said. "They might have to wait their turn, but that's different. Come on. Just for a minute." She headed for the tank herself, sure that Lexa would follow. She wasn't disappointed.

They spent a few minutes looking at and touching the different creatures in the tank, then glanced over at Luna, who suggested to Adria that it was time to give another one of the kids a turn. They headed the big sink at the end to remove any possible fish-borne cooties and then let Adria charge ahead to the next exhibit, where they spent a few minutes searching for the octopus before finally spotting it on one wall, perfectly camouflaged until it moved one of its legs. Adria squealed with delight. "It wave at me!" she said, waving enthusiastically back. "Hi octopus!" 

"There's one more surprise for you," Lexa said when it became clear that the octopus wasn't going to wave again and Adria got bored. "Are you ready?"

"Yes!" she said, grabbing Luna's hand and tugging. "Come on, Lulu!" She started pulling, even though she didn't know which way she was supposed to go. Luna gently guided her in the right direction, and soon they stood in front of a big tank full of penguins, with windows below the water level that allowed them to see even when they were diving. "PEN-A-WINS!" Adria shouted, loud enough that the sound echoed and some of the other patrons glared accusingly at them. 

"Real life penguins," Luna agreed, picking her up so she could see better. Clarke wasn't sure how long they stayed there, but eventually Adria put her head down on Luna's shoulder, and they took that as a sort of white flag. They walked slowly away, giving her a few final moments to commune with her waddling friends, and then headed for the exit... which of course was right next to the gift shop with its prominent display of stuffed aquatic creatures. 

Adria nearly hurled herself out of Luna's arms, her flagging energy given a second wind by the possibility of something to cuddle. Luna looked ready to object, but Lexa shook her head. "Our treat," she said. 

"You'll spoil her," Luna said. 

"Isn't that what aunts are supposed to do?" Lexa countered. "Consider it three Christmases and birthdays that I've missed." 

Luna pressed her lips together and nodded. "You can pick out one toy," she told Adria, setting her down. "Okay?"

"Okay Lulu," Adria said, wide-eyed as she tried to take it all in... and then she just dove in, picking up toys and hugging them like she needed to test them all to see which one she liked best. Clarke went to see if there were any penguin shirts that were actually in Adria's size... and maybe Ontari's while she was at it, even if she knew the teenager would roll her eyes and pretend to hate it. She thought about getting something for Aden and Madi, too, but if she got them gifts, she would need to get something for everyone, and anyway she would rather bring them here... or the zoo or the Children's Museum or wherever they wanted to go... to pick out their souvenirs. And she would, just as soon as it was possible. 

When they finally got to the register, Adria was clutching two stuffed penguins. One was an adult and one was a baby, but they didn't come as a set. Luna looked down at her and shook her head. "I said you could have one," she told her. "So you'll have to decide which one you want."

"No," Adria said. "Big pen-a-win _and_ little pen-a-win!" 

"Adria, you need to listen to Lulu," Luna said. "I said one and I meant one. You need to put one back."

"No!" Adria said, hugging them tighter and stomping her feet. "BIG PEN-A-WIN AND LITTLE PEN-A-WIN I NEED!"

Luna gave her a stern look. "If you don't choose, you don't get to have either one," she said. "I'm going to count to three, and when I'm done counting, you tell me which one you want to put back. One..." Adria shook her head and kept shaking it. "Two..." Adria looked at the penguins and burst into tears, but Luna didn't stop counting. "Three. Which one do you want to put back?"

Adria went back to the shelf and put the big penguin back, then set the baby one down next to it, tucked under its wing. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and Clarke found her own eyes filling. 

"Please," Lexa said softly. "I know you said one and you need her to listen and I don't want to undermine you but she's had a rough couple of days – weeks – and we really don't mind getting both. Just this once."

Luna's frown deepened, her eyebrows drawing together. If she gave in it would only reinforce to Adria that having a tantrum would get her want she wanted. 

"It's a mama and a baby," Clarke said. "You can't—"

Luna looked at her like she wanted to strangle her, but only for a second before her face crumpled. Lexa put her arms around her, leading her off to the side, murmuring something to her that Clarke couldn't hear. Clarke went and picked up Adria, trying to stop her tears by swaying back and forth and rubbing her back. 

Lexa and Luna joined them a minute later. Luna's eyes were red-rimmed and the tip of Lexa's nose was a little pink, but they had composed themselves as best they could. Luna picked up the two penguins and looked at them, then handed them to Adria. "Because you were such a good listener all day," she told her. 

"I have Big and Little?" Adria asked. 

Luna nodded. "Just this once." 

Adria started to cry again, but this time they were happy tears, and she said thank you without Luna even needing to prompt her. They took the penguins up to the register along with the other things they'd picked out (Clarke hid the stuffed turtle until Luna and Adria were distracted; she wasn't sure Lulu would approve) and soon they were on their way back to the car. 

Adria fell asleep on the drive back to Lexa's apartment, barely visible behind her new plush friends. Lexa gently extricated them from her grasp so that Luna could get her out of her car seat, and then tucked them back into her arms when she was safely in bed for a nap. 

"Does it ever get easier?" Luna asked. "This parenting thing?"

"You're asking the wrong people," Lexa said. "Maybe ask Abby next time you see her."

"Which is Monday," Luna said. "That's when she's going to start doing tests. Which means I'm going to need someone to take Adria for a little while. I don't want her seeing that. I don't want her thinking there's anything wrong with me, that I might leave her like—" She stopped, swallowed hard. "Clarke, were you serious about your mom being able to help with the legal stuff? Or knowing someone who could?"

"Of course," Clarke said. "Probably not a lot that can be done over the weekend, but if you ask her she'll get you set up with someone as soon as she can." 

Luna nodded and slumped against the arm of the couch. "I think I might be ready for a nap, too," she said. "I didn't sleep much last night." 

"All right," Lexa said. "We'll leave you to it, then. Call if you want to come over later or want us to come here." She got up and hugged Luna tight. Clarke followed, feeling only a little awkward about it. 

In the car, Lexa put her head down on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Clarke reached out to rub her back. "I don't know how to do this," Lexa said after a moment. "I thought... I thought I was used to losing people, but I don't know how to face possibly losing her now that I have her again, and if anything happens to her, what happens to—"

"I know," Clarke said. "Trust me, that was all going through my head yesterday while you were getting them settled."

"Which means you've got it all figured out," Lexa said, turning her head to look at her with a crooked smile. "Right?"

Clarke laughed softly, shaking her head. "I wish," she said. "I really do. I wish I had all the answers for you, that I could wave a magic wand and have everyone live happily ever after, but we know that's not how it works." 

"I just keep thinking, 'What if we've run out of miracles?' What if two is the limit and three is just being greedy?"

"It's not a miracle," Clarke said. "It's science."

"Can it be both?" Lexa asked. "Because it kind of feels like both."

"Maybe it can," Clarke said. "But the great thing about scientific miracles is that you can make them happen again."

Lexa nodded, looking more tired than Clarke had ever seen her, and she'd seen her having just woken up from death. "I sure as hell hope so."


	13. Chapter 13

On Monday Lexa decided that she didn't want Luna to be alone during her tests, and to Clarke's surprise, Luna agreed, which left Clarke to watch Adria on her own. It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable with kids, or that she'd never been a babysitter before, but she still felt the weight of the responsibility more heavily than she might have with any other child left in her care.

She sat on the couch, thinking about how strange it felt to be here alone, even though there had been plenty of times when she'd been the only one home once she got old enough that her parents trusted her not to burn the place down. Adria was on the floor, playing with her new pen-a-win friends. (Clarke suspected none of them would ever pronounce the word correctly again, because it was just too cute. Ten years from now, when Adria was a teenager, she would probably hate them for it.) 

"Come on, Little," the big penguin said. "Is time for skating!"

"But I not know how to skate," the little penguin replied. 

"I teach you!" the big one said. 

"Okay!" the little one agreed, bopping from side to side. 

Adria pinched their flippers together like they were holding hands and scooted them around the floor. "Whoosh, whoosh," she said, and then, "Whooooaaaah!" The little penguin tipped over. "Ow ow ow ow!" it cried.

"Is okay," the big penguin reassured it. "Come on, we fix you all up." She scooped them up together and popped up, coming over to the couch and plopping them in Clarke's lap. "Little pen-a-win got an owie," she said, or maybe it was Big saying it. Clarke wasn't sure. 

"Oh no," Clarke said. "We better check it out." She picked up the little penguin very carefully and checked it over. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" she asked the toy.

"Right here," the penguin told her, and the big one pointed to the little one's shoulder (was it a shoulder on a bird?) with its beak. "She fell on the ice."

"Oh no," Clarke said again. "But don't worry. I know just what to do."

"Oh good," Adria and/or the penguins said.

"First, we need to take a picture," Clarke said. She laid the little penguin carefully down on a pillow and pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of it and then quickly googling "penguin x-ray". She found a picture that didn't look too scary and showed it to Adria. "Good news," Clarke said. "Nothing's broken."

The little girl's eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. She looked at Clarke, then the screen, then the stuffed toy, and back at Clarke like she'd just performed some kind of magic trick. 

"But we still need to be careful, so we'll put it in a sling to give it time to heal." She looked at Adria. "Do you want to be my assistant?" 

Adria nodded, her eyes still round as saucers. They left the penguins on the couch and climbed the stairs, Adria slipping her uninjured hand into Clarke's to steady herself since she couldn't really reach the handrail. Clarke found some rolled gauze and hoped her mother wouldn't mind that she was using a little bit of it to fix a toy's pretend injury. Given the fact that she had distant memories of Band-Aids being applied to the tiniest of bumps, she was pretty sure she would understand.

Clarke went into her room, grabbing a red marker from her stash of art supplies, and then they went back down the stairs, with Adria decided to bump down on her bottom about a third of the way. Back in the living room, Clarke wrapped the gauze around Little Penguin like a sling, and then carefully drew a red heart on it. "You know what the last, most important part is?" she asked.

Adria shook her head. 

"The kiss to make it better," Clarke said. "Do you want to do it, or should I?"

"Me!" Adria said, and she picked up the little stuffie carefully and tenderly kissed it, then had Big Penguin give it a little peck (literally) as well. "All better!"

"Yup," Clarke said. "All better." 

While the penguins were resting, they did some coloring, and then Clarke made soup and grilled cheese for lunch. She didn't know if Adria still took a regular nap and she'd forgotten to ask. She thought about texting Lexa or Luna to ask, but she didn't want them to worry that she didn't know what she was doing. She figured it wouldn't hurt to do something quiet after lunch anyway to give their food time to settle, so she sat back on the couch and settled Adria next to her. "What do you think about watching a movie?" she asked. "Does that sound like a good idea?"

Adria nodded. "Doughy," she said. 

"Okay," Clarke said. "We'll watch Dory." She turned on the TV and searched Netflix but didn't find Finding Nemo or Dory on Netflix. She switched over to Amazon and was happy to discover that it was available there; she would just have to tell her mom that she'd rented it. She started the movie, and a few minutes in was a little surprised when Adria scooted herself down the couch until she was right up against Clarke's side, and a few minutes after that she was slumped against her, her head resting not exactly comfortably against Clarke's boob.

"C'mere," Clarke said, getting her arms around Adria and lifting her up, settling them both more comfortably on the couch, with Adria leaned back against her chest. Adria looked up at her and smiled, and Clarke felt her heart melt a little... or a lot. She pressed a kiss to the little girl's forehead and rested her cheek against her hair when she turned her attention back to the screen.

Adria didn't make it more than half an hour before her eyes drooped shut and she went limp and heavy in Clarke's arms. She thought about turning off the movie, carrying her up to her bedroom and tucking her in, but she was afraid all of that moving around would wake her up, so she just stayed where she was, her own eyes getting heavy as the movie went on. 

She woke up when she heard hushed voices and the click of the door closing. Adria was still out cold in her arms, a little spot of drool forming on Clarke's shirt where her face was pressed. Lexa and Luna were standing there, watching them, and Clarke grimaced. She tried to sit up but realized she couldn't do so without disturbing Adria, so she relaxed back again. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Lexa said. 

"How long has she been out?" Luna asked. 

"Not sure," Clarke said. "We had lunch around noon and started the movie after... so since one, maybe?"

Luna nodded. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked like she could use a nap of her own, but she leaned down and shook Adria gently. "Time to wake up, little starfish," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "Lulu's home."

Adria's eyes opened, and her face split in a smile. She launched herself into Luna's arms and wrapped around her like a barnacle. "Lulu!" 

Luna pressed her face into the little girl's neck, and Clarke thought she might be trying not to cry. Clarke looked at Lexa instead, not wanting to intrude on the moment, and Lexa smiled, leaning down to kiss her, then offering her a hand to help her up. Once she was on her feet, Clarke found herself in Lexa's arms, and she rubbed her back gently and held her tight. She didn't try to reassure her it was okay; she just tried to anchor her while she went through whatever she was going through. 

"Everything went okay?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa nodded. "It's just getting a baseline," she said. "It wasn't..." She sighed. "It just brings up memories. This isn't our first rodeo."

"'That's still a very low number of rodeos,'" Clarke said, remembering something she'd seen online. 

Lexa smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of Clarke's neck, her head resting on her shoulder. "It's more than our second rodeo, too," she said. "It's hard not to remember everything that we went through, all of the times we've been given hope and then had the rug pulled out from under us. There's only so many times..."

"But it's different this time," Clarke said. "We know—"

"I know," Lexa said. "It doesn't change the past. In some ways it makes it harder, because the hope is so much more real, and yet..."

Clarke nodded, tightening her arms around her again and holding on until Lexa was ready to let go.

"What happened to Little?" Luna asked, and Clarke opened her eyes as Lexa lifted her head to look over at them. 

"Little got a owie," Adria said. "She falled on the ice."

"Oh," Luna said. "But you fixed her all up?"

Adria shook her head. "Dr. Clarke fix her up! But I do the kiss."

Luna smiled, and some of the exhaustion seemed to slip from her features. "That's a very important part," she said. 

"The _most_ 'portant part," Adria said. "Dr. Clarke said."

"Dr. Clarke is very smart," Luna said, glancing over at Clarke and giving her a quick wink. "I'm sure that Little will be better in no time."

Adria nodded. " _And_ ," she said, "Dr. Clarke taked a picture of Little's _bones_." 

Luna's eyebrows drew together and she looked at Clarke again, this time confused and obviously curious. "Did she?"

"Uh-huh! Dr. Clarke, show Lulu!" 

Clarke pulled her phone from her pocket and brought up the picture of the penguin x-ray again, showing it to Luna. She saw her press her lips together, obviously trying not to laugh. "That's very impressive," she said. "You're a very good doctor."

Clarke grinned. "Anything to help a pen-a-win in need," she said.

* * *

Luna and Adria stayed for dinner, during which Abby and Ontari were treated to the tale of Little Penguin's icy (mis)adventures, and Clarke had to show off the x-ray again. Ontari rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mother's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "It's a good thing you were here to help," she said. "Not just anyone knows how to treat a penguin." 

After dinner they packed up the toys that Adria had brought with her. Clarke had planned to stay home while Lexa drove them to her apartment, but Adria took her hand and refused to let go, so she ended up in the back seat with her while Luna rode in the front. When they dropped them off, Adria tugged on her sleeve until she crouched down, and then gave Clarke a hug that seemed impossibly big for a person so small, especially one who currently had only one functional arm. "Thank you for fixing Little," she said. "I love you."

Clarke froze. She looked up at Luna, but she was talking to Lexa and hadn't heard. "I love you too," she told her, because what the hell else was she going to say? When Adria finally let go, Clarke tapped the tip of her nose. "Good night," she said. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

Adria giggled. "There's no bugs in our bed!"

"Only starfishes," Luna said. She scooped Adria up and carried her inside, waving from the doorway before closing the door behind them.

They drove back to Clarke's house, and Lexa almost immediately headed for the shower. "I smell like hospital," she said. 

"There's a plastic bin in the linen closet that's got a bunch of bath stuff in it," Clarke said. "Unless it's gotten used up."

"We just restocked it," Ontari called from the living room, where she was sprawled on the couch watching TV. 

"There you go," Clarke said. "Feel free to make use of it if it will help you relax."

"Thank you," Lexa said. She kissed Clarke quickly, and then disappeared into the bathroom. 

Clarke went to find her mom, who was sitting at the dining room table with her laptop and a bunch of papers and files spread out. "I'm sorry I used some of the gauze," she said. "I can replace it if you want."

Abby looked up and smiled, shook her head. "It's just one roll," she said, "and probably not all of it. It was for a good cause." She gestured toward one of the other chairs, and Clarke sat down. "If I can forgive you for the time you used an entire box of Band-Aids to tend to your toys' boo-boos when you were Adria's age, I'm certainly not going to begrudge you a little gauze for a little girl who's dealing with all kinds of boo-boos of her own."

Clarke nodded. "Do you think she's going to be okay?"

"Adria?" Abby asked. "Or Luna?"

Clarke bit her lip. "Both, I guess," she said. 

"Physically, Adria will be fine. There's a possibility that this may make her more prone to subluxation or dislocation of that shoulder in the future, especially if it's not given the time to heal properly, but unless she goes on to play a contact sport later in her life, it's unlikely to be much of an issue."

"She might decide to follow in Big Pen-a-win's footsteps," Clarke said. 

"Big Pen-a-win?" Abby asked. 

"That's what she called Ontari," Clarke told her, grinning. "When we took her to the aquarium, she wanted to know where Big Pen-a-win was and why she wasn't coming, too. We told her maybe she could come next time." 

"That might take some convincing," Abby said. 

"But she didn't dislocate an eyeball when I gave her the shirt I bought, so that's gotta count for something, right?" Clarke had called it a late birthday gift from her and Adria, and because Adria had been vibrating with excitement over the fact that they now had matching shirts, Ontari had been gracious about accepting it. She'd even put it on over the shirt she was already wearing just to make Adria happy. 

"It does," Abby agreed. "She really is a good kid."

"I know," Clarke said. "She's just got a lot to deal with."

"All of you do," Abby pointed out. "Yes, even you," she added when Clarke started to protest. "Because you care about them. What happens to them affects you, and you have to deal with that." She reached out and laid her hand over Clarke's. "Don't dismiss that, or discount it. Ignoring it or trying to pretend that it's not happening only hurts you, which in turns makes it harder for you to be there for the people that you want to be there for."

Clarke knew it was true, but it didn't really make it easier. "I just want everyone to be okay. Lexa, Luna, Ontari, Adria, Madi, Aden... all of them. I just want them to be okay."

"We're working on it," Abby said. "Just remember that taking care of yourself is taking care of them."

"Do you think... I don't know what tests you did, but do you think... are we getting our hopes up for nothing?" Clarke asked. 

Her mother looked at her laptop screen and all of the papers around her, then finally back at Clarke. "No," she said. "I don't think we're getting our hopes up for nothing. The fact that we have two successful test cases proves we're on the right track. It's just a matter of being able to do it in a controlled way to reduce the risk, and I'm hoping that we'll be able to figure that out with Luna."

"But what if you can't?" Clarke asked. "What if it doesn't work? What if..." She swallowed. "What if she's one of the failures that inevitably comes before success?" 

Abby squeezed her hand tighter. "I am going to do absolutely everything in my power to make sure that that's not the case," she said. "With her here, I can run tests on her blood without it impacting her directly. I didn't get that opportunity with Lexa and Ontari. I am not going to do anything that might jeopardize her life until I am as sure as I can possibly be that the outcome will be what we want." Her knuckles were almost white as she held Clarke's hand tighter still. "I am not going to make an orphan of her daughter."

"You know what will happen if... if that happens," Clarke said.

Abby nodded. "I know. Or I can guess." She let go of Clarke's hand, but only so that she could press it between both of her own. "You are going to be an amazing mother someday," she said. "There is no doubt in my mind about that. But not yet."

* * *

Clarke went up to her room, and when Lexa came in from her bath, she pulled her down and kissed her, tugging the tie of her bathrobe and letting it fall open, slipping her hands underneath to touch Lexa's skin. Lexa sighed and melted against her, tucking her own hands into Clarke's back pockets and dragging their hips together. 

"One of us," she breathed, her tongue flicking Clarke's earlobe and her teeth raking against her skin, "is overdressed..."

"We should fix that," Clarke mumbled back, capturing her lips again. She pushed the robe back on Lexa's shoulders, exposing them and pressing a line of quick kisses along her clavicle.

"I didn't mean me," Lexa said. 

"Oh, you didn't?" Clarke grinned, and Lexa rolled her eyes and took one hand out of Clarke's pocket. She popped the button of her jeans and slid the zipper down, then shoved her hand down between her legs, fingering her through her panties. Clarke groaned and rocked into her touch. "Fuck," she groaned. 

"You need only ask," Lexa teased, slipping the tip of a finger under the elastic, brushing against the rapidly dampening nest of curls. 

"Fuck me," Clarke hissed. It was all the encouragement Lexa needed. She shoved Clarke's jeans down, her panties going with them, and Clarke had barely stepped out of the tangle of cloth before Lexa's fingers were inside of her, the heel of her palm grinding against her clit as she thrust them in as deep as they would go. Clarke wrapped an arm around Lexa's shoulders so she didn't lose her balance, and locked her lips with Lexa's to stifle the moans that threatened to give them away. She rose up on her tiptoes when Lexa curled her fingers, stroking inside of her in a way that made Clarke feel wobbly. "Bed," she finally gasped. "I can't—"

Lexa walked her back toward the bed. Clarke's knees buckled when she hit it, and it was only her grip on Lexa that kept her from falling. Lexa lowered her down, landing half on top of her without her hand ever moving from where it was buried, and it didn't take long before Clarke's back arched and she came with a strangled cry that was muffled by the collar of Lexa's robe. 

"I love you," she breathed, wrapping her other arm around Lexa and pulling her close. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Lexa said. "I didn't even know it was possible to feel so strongly about someone so quickly, but you..." She shook her head, and Clarke felt her eyes prick with tears when she saw Lexa's filling. 

"Shh," Clarke whispered, brushing her lips over Lexa's eyelids, and then her cheeks and nose and finally her mouth. "I know." Sometimes she worried that it was too much, too soon, and that it couldn't last. That their love was like a firework, big and beautiful and brilliant for a moment, and then gone. Was it possible for something so intense, so all-consuming, to be sustainable? 

But when she imagined the future, there was no version of it that didn't include Lexa. When her mother had said that she would make a good mother someday, she'd known it would be with Lexa at her side, the Mom to her Mommy, or whatever their children decided to call them.

She didn't have enough experience with relationships to know whether everyone felt this way, dreamed like this when things were new, untested... but they _weren't_ untested. If anything, they'd been tested more than some relationships ever would be within the first few weeks. Maybe for them the real test would be in the everyday things, the deciding which of them got stuck with the chore that they both hated, the squabbling over who forgot to buy what at the store, and why didn't you put it on the list in the first place? The disagreements over whether a cookie now would spoil dinner (or the kid) later. 

Which were all such small things after what they'd already lived through that they seemed negligible. Surmountable. (Was that a word? Could a thing be surmountable, or only insurmountable?) She pressed her face into Lexa's shoulder to stifle a giggle, and Lexa turned to look at her. 

"What?" she asked. She reached over to tip Clarke's face up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Clarke said. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is right." 

Lexa's forehead crinkled, right between her brows, and Clarke pressed a kiss there to smooth them back out, and once she started, she didn't stop, kissing Lexa in all of the soft, vulnerable places that no one else got to see or touch, pressing and stroking and drawing first sighs, and then gasps, and then moans, and finally back to sighs again as she curled herself around Lexa's back and pulled the covers up over them. 

"I love you," Clarke murmured against the back of her shoulder. "I love us. I love our family..."

Lexa twisted around to look at her. "Our family?"

"My mom. Ontari. Luna and Adria. Madi and Aden. The rest of the kids, too, but especially them. What else would you call them?"

Lexa's mouth crashed against hers, and Clarke had thought that they were done, that they'd given all that they had to give, taken all there was to take, but it turned out they'd only just gotten started.

* * *

They went to see the Nightbloods the next afternoon, arriving just before their bus dropped them off from school so they were waiting in the driveway when they came spilling out, one after another. Madi was first ( _Of course,_ Clarke thought) and as soon as she saw them standing there, she broke into a sprint, slowing down only when she realized that she couldn't leap on both of them at once and she would have to choose. But Aden was right on her heels, and by virtue of his longer legs, he reached Lexa first. So Madi launched herself at Clarke, who lifted her off her feet and spun her around, grinning at Madi's delighted squeal.

"I didn't know you were coming!" Madi said, her arms clamped around Clarke's neck and her legs around her waist. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?!" 

"We wanted it to be a surprise," Clarke said. "Surprise!" 

Madi grinned and hugged her again. "I missed you _so_ much," she said into Clarke's neck. "Every day." 

"Even the days when we had our art lessons?" Clarke asked, rubbing her back to try to soothe away the hurt that made her voice catch. 

" _Especially_ those days," Madi said. "Because you weren't _here_." 

"I missed you too," Clarke told her. "My favorite little artist."

"I've been doing lots of practicing," Madi said. "Do you want to see?"

"Of course!" Clarke said, and carried her inside. Behind them, she could hear Aden excitedly telling Lexa about a project they were doing at school where they got to build a robot out of Legos and program it to do something. The other kids kept butting in with their own accomplishments, and Clarke was impressed by how easily Lexa kept what everyone was saying straight, and how she gave them each her full attention even with so many of them demanding it all at once. 

Once inside, Madi finally let Clarke set her down so that she could put her backpack on its hook and her shoes and coat in their places, then led her up to her room and pulled out a stack of drawings. They sat side-by-side on her bed, with Madi so close she was practically sitting on Clarke's hip, and looked over each one. Clarke thought she might have gone a little overboard with her praise, but Madi's skills really were improving by leaps and bounds from where she'd started, and the little girl just soaked it up like a sponge. It made her wonder how often someone spent time just with her, whether anyone took a real interest in what she was doing. 

With a pang, she wondered if anyone ever told this little girl how special and amazing and wonderful she was. Did anyone ever tell her that they loved her? Surely Lexa had, when she was here, but Titus? Gaia? They cared about the kids, sure. Loved them in their own way. But did they ever _say_ it? Did they even admit that they felt it, or was it too hard, knowing that they would lose them? 

"Clarke?" 

Madi's voice snapped her back to reality. "What, sweetie?"

"You look sad." Maid slipped her hand into Clarke's and squeezed. "Is it because I'm going to die?"

"You're—" Clarke stopped herself. She gathered up the drawings and set them on Madi's desk, then pulled her into her lap and held her tight. Too tight, maybe, but Madi didn't complain, only squirmed until she loosened her grip a little. _You're not going to die. I'm not going to let you die._ She pressed her lips to Madi's head, trying to still the trembling of her chin and the ache in her heart. "I love you," she whispered, even though maybe she shouldn't have. Maybe it was too much like making a promise that she didn't know if she could keep, but the words came out and she couldn't take them back, and she wouldn't have even if she could. 

And wasn't it strange how the more you said something, the easier it became to say? Or maybe it wasn't strange at all. Her parents had never held back on telling her, or each other, how they felt, so it wasn't as if those three words were something that she'd learned to only use sparingly. Saying them to Lexa was as easy as breathing and just as necessary. It was impossible to look a tiny child in the eye and _not_ tell them you loved them when they said it first. And even if she'd been surprised by Adria's innocent declaration, Clarke's response had been sincere. To withhold that same sentiment from Madi would have felt wrong. Cruel, even, when Clarke's heart was full to bursting. 

"I love you too," Madi mumbled, clinging to Clarke now with all of her might. They stayed like that until some of the other kids came clattering up the stairs, their noisy chatter and friendly bickering cracking open the cocoon of quiet they'd wrapped around themselves. Madi lifted her head from Clarke's shoulder and rubbed at her eyes. She'd been crying, soft hitching breaths and whimpered exhales, and Clarke hadn't tried to shush her because who was she to try to put a stopper in the feelings of a child who had already lost so much, and who still believed that she would lose everything else sooner than later?

"I have some paintings, too," she said. 

"I would love to see them," Clarke told her.

* * *

They didn't leave until the kids had all been tucked into bed. As the youngest, Madi was the first, and Clarke stayed with her until she was sure she was asleep, while Lexa supervised the rest of them going through their nightly routines. When Clarke finally emerged from Madi's room, she was a little surprised to see Aden hugging Lexa – and she was pretty sure that's what it was, and not Lexa hugging Aden with him merely tolerating it. His arms were wrapped around her so tight his hands almost gripped his opposite elbows, and she was brushing back hair that had gotten a little shaggy since Christmas and was starting to fall into his eyes, which were squeezed so tight the corners wrinkled. 

She heard Lexa whispering something to him, but couldn't quite make out the words, and finally he let go and straightened himself up. His cheeks flushed when he saw Clarke and he cleared his throat. "Good night," he said, and his voice cracked. 

"Good night," Clarke said. 

"Good night," Lexa echoed, reaching for Clarke's hand. Clarke took it and brought it to her lips, kissing her knuckles. Lexa looked at her and forced a smile. "We can go," she said. "If you're ready."

Clarke glanced at Madi's door but forced herself to step away, heading down the stairs with Lexa in tow. They said good night to Titus and the other caregivers and let themselves out. The drive back to Clarke's house was quiet, each of them lost in their own world. 

"I'm going to take a shower," Lexa said, "or maybe another bath. If that's okay."

"Of course," Clarke said. "I kind of had the same idea."

Lexa bit her lip, looking around like Abby or Ontari might be listening or watching them, then pulled Clarke into the bathroom with her. Which would have been a lot sexier if they hadn't both started crying as soon as they touched each other, so that they spent practically the entire time just holding on to each other and holding each other up while hot water streamed over them. When they finally managed to get their emotions in check, they helped each other soap up and rinse off, but that was all it was, and when they collapsed into bed it was only to sleep, their limbs tangled so that it became hard to tell where one started and the other began.

* * *

"I don't want to go back," Lexa said. It was Friday night, and honestly, Clarke had been waiting for something like this. She was a little surprised it had taken this long. 

"I know," Clarke said. "But you have to."

"Do I?" Lexa asked. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Clarke, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from where it strayed across Clarke's forehead. "Why?"

Clarke smiled, trying to make it gentle but sure that it came across as a little forced, because it was. "The semester is already half over," she said. "It seems silly to get this far and then not finish. Not to mention a waste of money."

Lexa sighed and flopped back, and Clarke rolled onto her side to look at her. "That's what Luna said," she grumbled. Clarke felt a pang of jealousy that Lexa had talked to Luna about this before she'd talked to her, but she pushed it aside as wasted emotion, because really, what did it matter who she talked to _first_? It wasn't as if it was something private between the two of them. Lexa wasn't airing their dirty laundry to someone else. And Lexa's desire to stay was almost certainly because of Luna being here; it didn't have anything to do with Clarke. 

"Great minds think alike," Clarke said. 

"You know that's only half the saying?" Lexa said. "I don't remember the rest, but the implication is that even great minds sharing the same thought can still be wrong." 

Clarke wrinkled her nose and poked Lexa's side. Lexa turned her head to stick her tongue out. "Six weeks," Clarke said, "or seven. Something like that. Then we'll be home for the summer and you can spend as much time as you want with her."

Lexa sighed. "I know. I just..." She stared up at the ceiling. "I just keep thinking, what if she doesn't make it that long? I have her back in my life now, and I'm just going to walk away? She's not... she doesn't take care of herself like she should. She's so wrapped up in taking care of Adria..."

"Adria needs her," Clarke said. "And she doesn't _not_ take care of herself. She eats well, does those yoga videos, gets as much sleep as a person can when they're sharing a bed with the world's largest starfish..."

Lexa laughed. "Is she? I thought there were giant man-eating starfish that creep along the ocean floor and devour everything in their wake."

"That will be Adria when she's a teenager," Clarke said, and Lexa laughed again, and then they were both laughing because it was better than crying, which was something they'd done altogether too much of, separately and together, over the last few days. They would be fine for minutes, even hours at a time, but as soon as things got quiet and they were left alone with their thoughts, the weight of reality would come crashing back down on them, applying pressure until they gave in and let tears flow, doing their job as nature's release valve. 

"Part of me doesn't want to go back either," Clarke admitted when their giggles had subsided. "But I keep reminding myself that we're not so far away that we can't come home at a moment's notice if we need to, and that when all of this is over, when everyone is healthy and happy, we'll probably regret putting our lives on hold when there's really nothing we can do."

"We can be here," Lexa said. " _I_ can be here. Luna... it's not fair for her to go through this alone. Who is going to watch Adria when your mother needs to run tests?"

"Ontari?" Clarke suggested. 

Lexa snorted. "Really?"

"You never know!" Clarke said. "Come on. She puts up a good front, but don't you secretly think she likes being Big Pen-a-win?" 

Lexa rolled her eyes, but after a second she conceded, "Maybe she does. But that doesn't mean she knows what she's doing."

"Adria isn't a tiny baby," Clarke said. "No bottles, no diapers, none of that. All she has to do is feed her at regular intervals and keep her entertained. If all else fails, she can just put on Doughy."

"Good ol' Doughy," Lexa said. She picked up Clarke's hand and pressed it to her own, palm to palm, the tips over her fingers extending so far past Clarke's she could almost curl them completely over. "I hate waiting," she said. "I know that we have to, that it's what's best for Luna, and for everyone. Run all the tests, make sure everything is working the way it should be... but there is so much that can go wrong while we're just waiting." 

"I know," Clarke said. "Madi..." And there were the tears again. She tried to swallow them back but it was impossible. Lexa drew her in and stroked her hair until they passed, which didn't take long because after a while you just grew accustomed to how much a thought would hurt. 

"You really care about her," Lexa said softly. 

"I love her," Clarke said. "I told her so. Maybe I shouldn't have, but—"

The words were stopped by Lexa's mouth on hers, a kiss that stole the breath from Clarke's lungs and left her aching in a different way. "You should have," Lexa told her when she finally pulled away. "It's something none of us ever heard enough, because who was going to say it? Tell her. Tell her as often as you want to, as often as you can, because—" 

Lexa choked, but she didn't need to finish for Clarke to know: _Because you never know if you'll get another chance._

"Can we go see them tomorrow?" Clarke asked. 

"Of course," Lexa said. "For as long as you want."

* * *

"Every day," Clarke promised. "I'll call you ever day. We won't be able to have a lesson every day, because you'll have homework to do and so will I, but I promise we will at least talk. Okay?"

"Cross your heart?" Madi's chin quivered as she drew an X on Clarke's chest.

"Cross my heart," Clarke said, doing the same to Madi. 

"Okay," Madi said, sniffling. "And... and you'll come if I need you? If I really, _really_ need you?" _If I get sick,_ she wasn't saying. _If I'm dying._

"As fast as I can," Clarke said. "I gave you your very own special ringtone so if anyone from this house calls me, I'll know it's important and I'll pick up. No matter where I am and what I'm doing." 

"Okay," Madi said again. She rested her cheek on Clarke's shoulder. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too, sweet girl," Clarke said. "But I made you something so maybe you'll miss me a little less." Inspiration had struck late the night before and she'd been up all night getting it done. "Do you want to see?"

"Yes!" Madi said. "What is it? Show me!"

Clarke pulled the carefully wrapped gift from her backpack and handed it to Madi. She tore into it so quickly, paper flying in shreds, that Clarke wondered why she'd bothered wrapping it at all. Madi stared down at the framed watercolor, her mouth open in a little O. It was from a picture of them that Lexa had taken, with Clarke sitting in a chair and Madi perched on the edge of the same chair as she painted. One of Clarke's hands was pointing to something on the canvas, the other arm was wrapped around Madi's waist, and they were both smiling. She'd painted it so that the overall picture took the shape of a heart, and along the edge where she would normally put her signature, she'd written, "For Madi, Love you always, Clarke." 

Madi burst into tears, and it took a long time before Clarke was able to get her calmed down again. When she'd finally subsided to just the occasional sniffle, they found a hammer and a nail and hung the picture up right by Madi's bed so she could see it every night when she was going to sleep. It took another little while to say their goodbyes, and Clarke felt like she was tearing herself in two when they walked away.

Lexa held her hand as they drove to her apartment to have one last dinner with Luna and Adria. Clarke entertained the little girl while Luna and Lexa cooked, talking in soft voices about Clarke didn't know what, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. They both gave Adria a good cuddle before Luna took her off to bed, and then hugged Luna when she reemerged. 

"Take care of her," Luna whispered to Clarke. "I know you know, but... just take care of her."

"I will," Clarke said. "Take care of yourself."

Luna smiled. "I will."

"And get Adria her own little bed so you can sleep without someone's foot in your ribs."

That got a laugh. "I'll think about it," she said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping convince me to come here. For watching Adria. For loving Lexa. All of the above."

"You're welcome," Clarke said. "I'll see you soon."

Luna nodded, and Clarke went out to start the car, giving them a few minutes of privacy. Lexa's eyes were red-rimmed when she got in, and Clarke touched her arm gently. "We'll come back every weekend if you need to," she said. "We'll have to make sure to stay on top of homework and all that, but we can make it work."

Lexa let out a breath, a long sigh like Clarke had just spared her from something. Maybe she had, because maybe Lexa had been going to ask for that exact thing, or something like it. Weekends were usually spent together, but now she needed, or wanted, to be here, too. Clarke agreeing to come with her before she even asked must have been a relief. 

"I'm going to hate being away from you, too," Lexa said. "I don't know if I could have made it through this week without you. Going back, having to come home at night and you not being there..." 

"We've done it before," Clarke said, with more conviction than she felt, so maybe she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince Lexa. "We'll do it again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post! I honestly forgot it was Wednesday... 
> 
> Also, not sorry for anyone who got diabetes from reading this. ;-)


	14. Chapter 14

They took turns picking each other up and driving home every weekend so they weren't putting all the miles on one car. A few times Clarke had obligations that meant she couldn't go with Lexa, and those weekends were hard. They tried to make up for them during the week if they could, but with the end of the semester looming with all its associated papers and projects and studying for exams, it was hard to find spare time. 

She even had to put Madi's art lessons on hold, telling her that she would make it up to her over the summer when they would be able to have them in person. Madi had pouted, but finally she'd accepted that Clarke wasn't doing it because she didn't want to teach Madi anymore; she just really didn't have the time. 

Which was why Clarke was confused when her phone started buzzing in her pocket in the middle of class one day, and when she peeked at the screen to see who was calling, she saw it was Madi... or someone from the house where Madi lived, and her heart lurched. She quickly ducked out of the room, leaving her stuff behind because she didn't have time to gather it before the call went to voice mail. 

"Hello?" Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, too high and slightly strangled. 

"You need to come home," Madi said. "You need to come home _right now_." 

"What?" Clarke pressed her phone to her ear harder, even though she could hear Madi just fine. "What's wrong, Madi?"

"Just come home!" Madi said, louder, and then Clarke heard rustling and a hushed voice, and Madi shouting that she needed Clarke, tell her that she needed her, and then her voice got distant and she couldn't hear her anymore. 

"Hello?" she said, her voice echoing in the empty hall and making her cringe. "Hello?"

"Hi." The voice was familiar, but it took Clarke a second to place it. Gaia, one of the caretakers at the house, who seemed to be Titus' second-in-command, as it were. "I'm sorry about that. She didn't have permission to use the phone."

"What's going on?" Clarke asked. "Why does she want me to come home?"

"We'll take care of her," Gaia said. "She'll be all right."

"I know," Clarke said, although she honestly wasn't sure, sometimes, how much any of them really cared about the emotional well-being of the kids in their care. Why get invested in a child whose life you know is going to be over before they've even had a chance to really start living it? "But why is she upset?"

Gaia hesitated, then sighed. "We lost Mason last night. It was sudden, and the children are taking it hard."

"Oh," Clarke said. "Does... does Lexa know?"

"She'll be notified," Gaia said. "We're still processing things ourselves. Again, I'm sorry that Madi called you and interrupted your day. She and Mason were in the same class, and they've known each other most of their lives, so she's having a hard time with it."

"Of course," Clarke said. "I can't even imagine..." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Tell her I'll be there as soon as I can."

"That's not necessary," Gaia said. "We have plenty of experience—"

"Tell her anyway," Clarke said. "I'll be there." She hung up, her fingers shaking as she jabbed at the screen to disconnect the call. She leaned back against the wall, her head hitting the concrete, and she just stood there with her eyes closed for what might have been seconds or minutes, she wasn't sure, before going back into the classroom and quietly gathering her things. Her professor announced they could all take a 10-minute break and hurried over to her. 

"Is everything all right?" she asked, frowning. "It's not like you to just get up and leave in the middle of a lecture."

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. "Family emergency. I need to go."

Her professor studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Of course. The PowerPoint will be up on the class site by this evening, and if you have any questions, please let me know."

"I will," Clarke said. "Thank you." She shoved her notebook and text into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, making her way quickly past her classmates, who were all looking at her curiously, and headed for the door. 

She went back to her dorm, checking her phone every few seconds to see if she had any messages from Lexa. Gaia had said that she would be notified, but maybe Clarke should tell her first? But she didn't have any details – couldn't even remember which one of the kids Mason was – so maybe it would be better for Lexa to hear it from someone who could actually share in her grief. Not that Clarke didn't feel bad. It was just that any real sorrow she might have felt was subsumed by her relief that it wasn't Madi or Aden, and worry about how it would impact the little girl... and Lexa, who had already lost too much. 

She packed enough clothing for a few days and double-checked that she had everything she would need to keep up with her homework and other assignments while she was at home, then got in her car. She was just about to pull out of the parking lot when her phone chimed, signaling she had a message. She stopped and tapped on the screen. 

**Lexa:** I need to go home. I'm not sure for how long.

**Clarke:** I'm already on my way to get you. 

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Finally a message came through. 

**Lexa:** Thank you.

The drive between their schools had never felt so long before, and when Clarke pulled up in front of Lexa's dorm, she was already waiting outside with her stuff. Clarke made sure the doors were unlocked and watched as Lexa dumped her bags into the back before climbing into the passenger's seat. She leaned in to kiss her lightly. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked as Lexa buckled herself in. 

"No," Lexa said. "I just want to get back there."

"Okay," Clarke said, and put the car into drive again. 

Lexa was quiet for almost half an hour before she finally asked, "How did you know? Did your mom—"

"Madi called me," Clarke said. "She told me I need to come home right now. Then Gaia took the phone away from her and told me what happened. She tried to convince me not to come, but there was no way. I know you would want – need – to be there, and Madi called me. She called _me_. I'm not going to just ignore that." 

Lexa nodded. "She loves you," she said quietly, staring out the windshield. "She used to want to be around me all the time, but now she's all about you." 

Clarke glanced over at her, unable to tell from her tone how she felt about it, whether it was an observation or an accusation or what. She didn't know whether she was supposed be to flattered or apologize. 

Lexa looked over at her and gave her the faintest of smiles. "It's all right," she said. "I'm glad she loves you. I think everyone should." 

Clarke managed a wobbly smile in return. "I love her too," she said. 

"I know," Lexa said. "You wouldn't drop everything this close to the end of the semester for just anyone." 

They went straight to the Nightblood house, not stopping at Clarke's house to drop off their things first or at Lexa's apartment to check on Luna and Adria. They were... not unimportant, but less important than Madi and Aden and the rest of them. They were greeted at the door by a grim-faced Titus, who didn't look entirely happy to see them. Especially Clarke. For a second she thought he might try to bar her from coming in, but finally he stepped aside to let her past. 

Most of the kids were in the living room, watching a movie or something with the volume so low Clarke wasn't sure that they could actually hear it, but none of them really seemed to be paying attention anyway. When Lexa came in, several of them got up and rushed to her, crowding around her and all trying to hug and touch and talk to her at once, seeking comfort from the older sibling, who had already been through this more times than Clarke – and probably Lexa herself – cared to think about. 

"Where's Madi?" Clarke asked no one in particular. She expected Titus to answer, but it ended up being Aden, who hung back until the clamor for Lexa's attention died down. 

"In her room," he said. "She got sent there after she kicked Titus."

Clarke snorted, pressing her lips together to hold in a laugh. "Did he deserve it?" she asked after a quick glance around to make sure he wasn't close enough to overhear. 

Aden bit the inside of his cheek, looking like he was trying not to smile. "A little," he whispered. 

"You think I can sneak up there?" Clarke asked. Aden nodded. "Thanks," she said, and turned for the stairs, then stopped. "How are you holding up?" she asked. "This must be so hard."

Aden shrugged. "I'm okay," he said. "You never get used to it, but..." He shrugged again. "I'll be okay," he said. "You should go check on Madi."

"Okay," she said, and tiptoed up so she didn't attract the attention of anyone who might try to stop her. 

She knocked softly on Madi's door, then opened it a crack so she didn't have to raise her voice to be heard. "Madi," she called softly. "It's Clarke."

The door was yanked from her grip and Madi's head crashed into her chest, her arms winding around her waist and squeezing as hard as she could. Clarke cradled the back of Madi's head with one hand and rubbed between her shoulder blades with the other, then worked Madi's grip loose enough that she was able to crouch a little to get an arm under her butt and lift her up to hug her better.

"You came," Madi whimpered against Clarke's neck. "I knew you would come." 

"Of course I came," Clarke said. "Of course I did." She carried her over to the bed and sat down with her, holding her in her lap even though she was a little too big for it. When Madi started to cry, she didn't try to stop her or tell her to hush. She just made sure she to keep her well-supplied with tissues until her eyes and nose finally dried up. 

"It's not fair," Madi said. "He was _fine_ yesterday, and then he just got sick last night and didn't even get to say goodbye because they didn't even wake us up. They just told us this morning that he was gone." 

Clarke jaw ached from clenching her teeth. "You're right," she said. "That's not fair. They should have let you say goodbye." _At the very fucking least._

"And now they're going to have a boring old funeral probably and that's _not right_ ," Madi said. "He wouldn't _want_ a boring funeral where everyone sits around and cries. He wouldn't want us to be sad." 

"No?" Clarke asked. "What would he want?"

"He would want us to have a party," Madi said. "A superhero party. Because he loved superheroes, and he always thought that maybe if we just could live long enough finally our black blood would give us super powers. Just no one had lived long enough yet for them to kick in." 

Clarke closed her eyes, pulling Madi into another hug so she couldn't see Clarke's face until she got it under control again. "That sounds pretty cool," she said finally, sniffling. 

"Titus said it would be 'inappropriate'," Madi said. "So I kicked him." 

"Aden told me," Clarke said. "Sometimes grown-ups forget what it's like to be a kid, and they don't understand that the way kids would do things isn't the same as the way they would." 

"Well they should try harder to remember," Madi said. "Especially Titus and Gaia and the rest of them, because it's not like any of us ever get old!" She shoved herself off Clarke's lap and walked the few steps to the other side of the room, then turned back around. "Maybe if _you_ tell him," she said. "Maybe then he'll listen, because you're _almost_ a grown-up." 

Clarke didn't think that was terribly likely... but maybe there was a way around it. "I'll see what I can do," she said. "But if I can't change his mind, will you promise to be on your best behavior at the funeral?" 

"No," Madi said. "I won't. I won't promise, because I won't go. Mason was my friend, and I don't want to see him in a box and put in the ground!" 

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and Clarke coaxed her back over to the bed. "It's okay," she told her. "You don't have to. If you don't want to go, you don't have to." And she _would_ fight Titus on that. Madi knew that her friend was dead. She didn't need closure; she'd always known that one day he would be. Why add to a child's trauma by forcing them to see something they didn't want or need to see? 

When Madi had calmed down again, Clarke took her to the bathroom to wash her face with cool water to soothe the redness of her nose and puffiness of her eyes. "Do you want to go see Lexa?" she asked. "She's downstairs with the other kids."

Madi nodded, but didn't release her grip on Clarke's hand as they descended the stairs. She didn't even let go when she hugged Lexa, just dragged Clarke into it as well. They stayed for dinner, which was a somber, almost silent affair, and afterward the kids mostly put themselves to bed without prompting. Only Madi made any kind of fuss, refusing to let Clarke go. 

"Hey," Lexa said, picking her up and whispering to her until finally she nodded. "Thank you," Lexa said, then handed her off to Clarke. "Three chapters," she said. "That's what I promised her. Three chapters, and then you have to go and she has to sleep."

Clarke smiled. "Okay," she said. She tucked Madi in and sat on the bed next to her, propping the book against her knee and holding it with one hand while she stroked her hair with the other. She hadn't even made it to the end of the first chapter before Madi had drifted off. Clarke quietly closed the book and started to get up, but as soon as her hand lifted from Madi's head, her eyes cracked open and she blinked at Clarke sleepily. 

"Will you miss me when I die?" she asked. 

Clarke froze. She couldn't say what she wanted to say, which was that she wasn't going to die, because Clarke would never let that happen. The death of her friend proved that that wasn't a promise she could make. 

"I miss you every day that I don't see you," Clarke finally said. "That will never change."

"Then you should see me more," Madi said. "While you still can." 

"I know," Clarke said. "But for now, how about I just promise that I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Okay," Madi said, closing her eyes again. "I promise too."

Which wasn't a promise that she could make either, but she made it anyway. Clarke leaned down and kissed her forehead and smoothed the covers over her. "I love you, Madi," she whispered. "Always and forever."

Clarke closed Madi's door quietly behind her and descended the stairs slowly enough that she didn't trip. Lexa was near the entryway, talking to Titus and Gaia, and Clarke pushed past them to shove her feet into her shoes, then yanked open the door and stepped outside, gulping down air as she stumbled to her car. She patted her pockets and realized that her keys were in her hoodie pocket and she'd left it inside, and that simple, stupid mistake was all it took to push her over the edge. 

She kicked her tires and pounded her fists against the hood of her car and screamed, frustration and anger and anguish all at once, and then she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from doing it again because the kids might still be awake, might be listening, and she had to hold it together, had to...

Lexa's arms closed around her from behind. "I know," she said. "I know, I know..."

_You don't know,_ Clarke wanted to scream. _How could you possibly know?_

But Lexa _did_ know. She knew better than anyone. Better than Clarke did, even, except she'd lived with it all her life, not come to it fresh when she'd had eighteen years of thinking that the world was mostly an okay place. Maybe she'd just been lucky. Maybe she'd been sheltered from all of the pain in the world, maybe...

"I know," Lexa said, as Clarke fought against her just because she needed to do _something_ , needed to work through this _somehow_. "I know." She held tight, and tighter still, until finally Clarke had worn herself out struggling and went limp in her arms, collapsing against her as sobs finally tore their way out of her chest, clawed their way up her throat, and hammered against her clenched jaw and teeth until she had no choice but to let them out, set them free.

They sank to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and Clarke couldn't tell whose tears were whose as they soaked their cheeks and collars, couldn't tell whether it was her own ragged breath or Lexa's that was so loud in her ears, didn't know which jagged pieces of shattered heart were hers and which weren't as they gripped them in white-knuckled aching fingers clasped together. 

"She asked me if I would miss her when she dies," Clarke said. "Lexa..."

"I know," Lexa said. "I know."

* * *

They went to see Luna and Adria first. Luna pressed a finger to her lips as they stepped inside, nodding toward the sleeping toddler sprawled on the couch with Little Penguin clutched to her chest. 

"Shouldn't she be in bed?" Lexa whispered. 

Luna shrugged. "There's no TV in there," she said, "and I didn't want her out of my sight."

"Why not?" Clarke asked. "She's not—" She stopped at the look Lexa gave her, the sharp shake of the head. "Sorry," she said. "It's just been a long day."

Luna nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said. As if it wasn't her loss, too. But it was, wasn't it? How many years had she been gone? Three and a bit, because she'd been there when Adria was born. But Mason was Madi's age, which meant he would almost certainly have been in the house while Luna was still there. But maybe she didn't remember.

Maybe she didn't want to remember. 

They didn't say much. It was hard to talk around the sleeping little girl, and there wasn't much to say anyway. Finally they just got up again. "I'll see you tomorrow," Lexa said to Luna, hugging her and kissing her cheek. "Be well."

"And you," Luna said. She offered Clarke a hug too, and Clarke accepted it, but her arms felt like lead as she tried to wrap them around Luna and she finally gave up. Luna looked at her for a long moment after letting go, then looked down and away, back over at Adria. 

"I should get her to bed," she said. "Good night." 

But they all knew it wouldn't be.

* * *

Her mother held them – both of them – in an iron grip as soon as they walked in the door. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Lexa said softly. "They said it happened too fast. They didn't even have time to get him to you to try..."

"I know," Abby said. "I just wish..." She sighed. "I thought we had time. I've made so much progress, and we're ready to..." She stopped. "Never mind. This isn't about me. Is there anything you need?"

Clarke started to shake her head, to tell her mother that they were fine, but stopped, because they _weren't_ fine, and maybe... "Actually," she said, "there _is_ something you can do." 

And she told her mother about Madi wanting to have a party for Mason rather than a funeral. "I'm not saying don't have the funeral," Clarke said. "If that's what the adults need, maybe some of the kids, that's fine. But for the reception after. Everyone gets together to eat and talk and be with each other anyway, right? So what's the harm in putting up some superhero decorations if it will make even one of his friends feel better?"

"It's not really my place," Abby said. "I was just his doctor."

" _Make_ it your place," Clarke said. "Convince them that this is what the kids need, more than being stuffed into little dresses and suits and made to watch their friend put in a hole—" She choked on the words, remembering another funeral that suddenly seemed like it was only yesterday. 

Lexa put her hand on Clarke's back. "I'll convince them," she said. "They'll listen to me." She glanced at Abby. "If you can start making arrangements, I'll make them see that it's the right thing for the kids. For all that they've been through it before, they don't really understand what it's like for us." 

"All right," Abby said. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Lexa said.

"Thanks," Clarke echoed, wiping at her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just—"

Her mother put her arms around her and held her for a long time, and it seemed like her supply of tears should have dried up by now, but maybe that wasn't possible. She heard footsteps on the stairs, and soft voices, and then feet stomping back up, followed by a door slamming. 

_Ontari._ Abby sighed. "It's okay," Clarke said. "Go... deal with her. I'll be okay." 

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't even know if she'll talk to me, so making her wait a few minutes..."

"I'm sure," Clarke said, forcing a watery smile. "I'm okay."

Her mother swiped her thumbs over Clarke's cheeks and kissed her forehead. "You know where I am if you need me." She let Clarke go and went to talk down a temperamental teenager. Clarke hoped it wouldn't end with anything getting broken.

Lexa looked at Clarke, then toward the stairs, and Clarke nodded. She took her hand led her up, locking them in her bedroom. She considered pushing her up against the wall or down onto the mattress and making them both forget for a little while, but she was too tired, so she just collapsed fully clothed onto the bed and pulled Lexa down next to her. 

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm making this all about me. How are you?"

Lexa exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Numb," she said. "It's like... I know it should hurt, but I can't make myself feel it. It's like the pain is just out of reach, and I'm too damn tired to stretch that little bit farther to catch hold of it." She sat up and began to undress, rifling through her bag until she found pajamas and slipping into them. "I don't know if it's because I've been through this so many times before, or if it's me protecting myself, or if I feel like I have to be strong for the kids so I'm not letting myself feel, but..." She shrugged, sat down again. "I'm just afraid of what's going to happen when it catches up with me." 

_Me too,_ Clarke thought, but she didn't say it. Whatever happened, whenever it happened, she would be there for Lexa as much as she could, as best she could, in whatever way she could. Maybe it was selfish, or maybe it was just because she knew it would be better for both of them, but she hoped that Lexa either broke down soon, or after finals, because having a complete emotional collapse in the middle of them would be a disaster. 

She forced herself up and into pajamas, and they took turns brushing their teeth and going through the rest of their bedtime routines before crawling under the covers together, legs overlapping and fingers interwoven. Clarke kissed Lexa softly and she kissed back, but there was no passion in it, only sadness. 

Clarke had started to drift a little when Lexa's voice tugged her back. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Clarke asked, forcing her eyes open again.

"For caring." The tip of Lexa's nose brushed against Clarke's and their foreheads met. "I never meant to drag you into this. Not really. I thought..." She shook her head. "I don't know. Any sane person would have run screaming when I invited them to decorate a Christmas tree with a bunch of dying kids, but not you. There were so many times when you could have cut and run, but you didn't. You haven't."

"I won't," Clarke said. "When I fell in bed with you... I just kept falling. And that meant falling into your life, and they're a big part of that. How can I love you and not love them? I—"

She was stopped by Lexa's lips on her, and then her whole weight, pressing her down, pinning her, and the pajamas they'd just put on came back off again, and the need to stay quiet only made things more intense as emotion and sensation, love and grief and desire and anguish and adoration and desperation got all tangled up so that they cried as they came, relief and release and respite, at least for a little while, and then sleep, dark and dreamless.

* * *

True to her word, Madi refused to go to the funeral. Instead, she wandered around Clarke's house wide-eyed, interrupting the party preparations (that she was theoretically supposed to be helping with) every few minutes to ask about this picture or that drawing, that trophy or this ribbon. Clarke tried to split her attention, but it was hard, especially with Ontari's barely suppressed rage at everything and nothing radiating from her in waves. 

"Who's that?" Madi asked, tugging Clarke away from putting out paper plates and plastic utensils. She pointed to a family picture taken in front of the house when Clarke was about Madi's age. 

"That's me and my mom and dad," Clarke said. 

"Where is he?" Madi asked. "I've never met him."

"He died," Clarke told her. "Remember? I made an ornament for him back at Christmas to put on the tree."

"Oh yeah," Madi said. Her shoulders slumped. "We'll have to make one for Mason next year." She leaned into Clarke even harder, so that Clarke had to shift to adjust for the added weight. "Or maybe just you will. Maybe all of us will be gone by then." 

"Don't say that," Clarke hissed, her voice harsher than she meant it to be. 

"Why not?" Madi asked. "It's true, isn't it? Mason died, so so could I. So could any of us. Any time. Just like that." She tried to snap her fingers but it didn't quite work. She scowled and tried again, and finally ended up stomping instead. "Just. Like. That."

"You're not going to die," Clarke said, dropping to one knee to put herself on Madi's level. "Okay? I'm not going to let you die." 

Madi shrugged, sniffled, swallowed, but then the almost-tears were replaced by a scowl. "You don't get a say," she said. "And I'm having a cupcake even though the party hasn't started and you can't stop me."

Clarke could, but she didn't try. She let her get a cupcake from the tray and let her take it into a corner where she sat cross-legged with her shoulders pressed hard into the wall, and bite into it savagely, leaving a spot of blue frosting on her nose. It would have been a perfect picture if it wasn't so fucking sad. 

Ontari grabbed her arm, fingers digging into her like claws, and dragged her into the kitchen. "They still don't know?" she asked. 

Clarke shook her head. "Not until we know it works," she said. "Under controlled circumstances. Mom is still running tests on Luna's blood, as far as I know, and once she thinks she's got it right, she'll—"

"She already figured it out," Ontari said. "It's ready to test. It has been for weeks. Lexa's friend just won't let her actually do it." Her eyes narrowed. "She could have saved that little boy if she hadn't decided to drag her feet."

Clarke's heart and stomach sank. Was that true? Her mother didn't talk much about where she was in the testing process, and Clarke didn't ask. She figured it was confidential, or at least privileged information, and asking would only put her mother in an awkward position. But Ontari knew, which meant either her mother had told her, or she'd been snooping. Either way...

But it wasn't that simple. Luna had Adria to consider, and obviously she would take precedence over kids that Luna hadn't seen in years, and whose health, they'd thought, was steady and holding. "They'll do it soon," Clarke said. "It'll all be fine." 

She wasn't sure if it was Ontari she was trying to convince, or herself. 

Her mother came home a few minutes later. She looked around and nodded. "It looks good," she said. "All of the food arrived all right?"

Clarke nodded. "Everything's ready." 

"Can I go now?" Ontari asked. "You said I didn't have to be part of this stupid—"

"It's _not **stupid**_ ," Madi snarled, darting out of the corner to crash into Ontari's legs, pitching her forward into Abby. " _You're_ stupid, and rotten, and horrible, and—"

Clarke grabbed her, lifting her away before she could start kicking and pummeling Ontari, but she couldn't stop her screaming, "EVERYONE HATES YOU!"

"Oh yeah? At least I'm not going to—" 

"ONTARI!" her mother snapped. "Upstairs! Now!"

Ontari went. Clarke kept her arms around Madi, who squirmed and kicked, nailing Clarke in the shin as she tried to charge after her nemesis. Clarke managed to keep her grip, barely, and dragged her into the living room where she dropped onto the couch and pulled Madi into her lap, holding her tight until she stopped fighting and started crying, ragged heaving sobs against Clarke's shoulder that left a wet spot on the material that Clarke suspected wasn't only tears, but she tried not to think too much about it.

When Madi finally subsided into sniffles, Clarke handed her a tissue. "Are you sure you don't have super powers?" she asked. "Because I think you might be super strong." 

Madi slumped. "Super powers aren't real," she said softly. "I'm sorry I kicked you."

"It's okay," Clarke said. "Thank you for apologizing." 

"I'm sorry for crying all over your shirt, too," Madi said. 

"I can get a clean one," Clarke said. "My room's just upstairs."

"Can I see it?" Madi asked.

"Sure," Clarke said. She and Lexa had cleaned it that morning, just in case any of the reception guests went upstairs for some reason and took a wrong turn while looking for the bathroom or something. She led Madi up the stairs and into her room, where she immediately flopped down on the bed and reached for Clarke's old teddy bear, hugging it to her chest as she looked around. "Is this where you lived your whole, whole life?" she asked.

"Yup," Clarke said. She opened a drawer and started rifling through. She was pretty sure she had a black Wonder Woman t-shirt somewhere, which seemed appropriate for the occasion. She finally found it and turned her back to Madi, quickly changing out of the tear-stained shirt and into the clean one. 

"Now we're twins," Madi said when she saw it, pointing to her own shirt. "You can be grown-up Diana and I can be little Diana. Except you're blonde so maybe you're Hippolyta." 

"Maybe I am," Clarke said, smiling. She sat down beside Madi and put an arm around her. "I know it's a hard day," she said, "but can we try to have no more shouting and kicking?" 

Madi shrugged. "Is Ontari going to keep being mean?"

"I think Ontari is probably going to stay in her room," Clarke said. 

Madi frowned. "She _lives_ here?"

"Yes, she does. She got sick and my mom made her better, but while she was recovering she came to stay here so my mom could keep an eye on her, and they decided that it was better for her to just stay here forever, because the person she was living with wasn't a good person."

"Is that why she's so mean all the time?" Madi asked.

"Maybe," Clarke said. "I think maybe she acts mean because she doesn't want to get too close to anyone, because when you care about people then it hurts you when you lose them, and it hurts them when they lose you. So instead of getting hurt, or hurting anyone, she tried to make sure that no one ever wanted to be her friend."

Madi's forehead furrowed. "But if she didn't have any friends, wouldn't she be lonely? Wouldn't that hurt too?"

" _I_ think it would," Clarke said, "and I think she _was_ lonely. I think she still _is_ lonely, because she never learned how to make friends. But she's trying to learn. She just needs more practice. So maybe if she comes out of her room again, if you want to you can try to help her practice." 

"Maybe," Madi said, squeezing the bear tighter. "I don't know if I want any more friends right now." 

Clarke smoothed back her hair and kissing her head. "That's okay, too," she told her. "But if she says something or does something that makes you angry, will you tell me, or Lexa, or Dr. Abby, rather than hitting her?"

"I'll try..." Madi said, sounding like Clarke was asking her to complete a Herculean task. 

"Thank you," Clarke said. "Are you ready to go downstairs again?"

Madi nodded, and they headed back down. Clarke thought she saw Ontari peering out from behind her bedroom door out of the corner of her eye, but it clicked shut as soon as she looked back. More people had arrived while they were upstairs, and Madi spent a few minutes playing hostess, thanking them for coming and showing them where the food was. 

"It looks awesome," Lexa said, hugging her. "I think Mason would love this."

"I wish he was here to see it," Madi said. "Maybe when you die you get extra special x-ray vision that makes it so you can see all the way from wherever you are to wherever you want to see, even if it's across the whole world or universe and inside." 

"Maybe you do," Lexa said. 

"I bet you get to fly, too," Aden said softly. "Mason always wanted that for one of his super powers. And super speed, and super strength, and invisibility." He sniffed, and Lexa put her arm around him and hugged him to her side. "I bet he's got all those things now." His chin trembled, and he turned so that Madi couldn't see his face as he fought to keep himself under control. 

"Madi, some more people just got here," Clarke said. "Why don't we go say hello?" 

'Thank you,' Lexa mouthed as Clarke led Madi away, leaving her to take care of Aden. 

She kept an eye on Madi, assisting her with the hostess duties (since it was her house and all), making sure that people knew where to find things like food and drinks and the bathroom, picking up discarded plates and cups that didn't quite make it to the trash as she went. There weren't a huge number of people, but there were enough that it made it feel like Mason's life had been bigger than just the small circle of Nightbloods. There were teachers from his school, and classmates and their parents, and if anyone thought that decorating a funeral reception like a kid's superhero birthday party was strange, they were too polite to say. 

Clarke was surprised when she looked up from cleaning up a spill (only water, thankfully) and saw Luna standing in the doorway with Adria on her hip. She curled her fingers in a timid wave, like she wasn't sure she was actually welcome. Clarke dumped the wad of wet paper towels into the nearest garbage can and went over. "I didn't know you were coming," she said. "How did you...?"

"Lyft," Luna said. "I didn't want to drag Lexa away." She must have seen Clarke's gaze flick to Adria, because she added, "Is her car seat okay on the porch, or should I bring it in?"

"It should be fine, but you can—I'll grab it," Clarke said. She scooted past Luna and out the door, grabbing the car seat and tucking it into a corner of the entryway. "There," she said. "Are you hungry? We have a ton of food. Including shrimp." She smiled at Adria, whose head was on Luna's shoulder, the fingers of one hand tangled in her curls, the thumb of the other stoppering her mouth. At least her arm was no longer in a sling. 

Luna glanced at her and sighed. "It's obviously still a work in progress," she said, gently removing it. Adria scowled. "Did you hear what Auntie Clarke said?" she asked. "She said there's shrimp. Are you hungry?" Adria nodded. "Can you use your words?"

"Shrimp," Adria said. 

"Can you use more than one word?" Luna asked. Adria shook her head. Luna's face scrunched like she was trying not to laugh. "Can you say the _magic_ word?" 

"Abcabdadbra," Adria said.

Clarke snorted, clamping a hand over her mouth to hold in her laughter, and Luna's shoulders shook. She opened her mouth like she was going to say more, than shut it again, shaking her head. "Close enough," she said finally, and started to follow Clarke toward the dining room where the food was laid out. 

"You're limping," Clarke said softly as she picked up a plate. "Did you get kicked in the shin too?"

Luna raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something?"

"Ontari being her usual charming self, and Madi getting fed up and trying to take her out," Clarke said. She put a pile of shrimp on the plate, then gestured toward the rest, silently asking Luna what she wanted. 

"And you stopped her?" Luna asked. 

"We're all dealing with enough today without adding bloodshed to the mix," Clarke said. "And you didn't answer my question."

Luna sighed. "No, I didn't get kicked. My hip is just aching." 

"From carrying Adria?" Clarke asked. 

"From the marrow extraction your mom did last week," Luna said. She waved away Clarke's apology before it even formed on her lips. "I'll be fine. It just takes some time to heal." 

"Why don't you go sit? I'll—"

"I'm _fine_ ," Luna said. "Just... some of the veggies there, and some cheese cubes."

"Cake!" Adria said. 

"You can have cake after you've had some real food," Luna said. 

"Acdacabra?" Adria tried, batting her eyelashes. 

"Really?" Luna asked, tickling her gently. " _Really?_ " Adria giggled. "After your shrimp, okay?"

"Okay," Adria said. They finished filling the plate and turned to go to the living room to find Luna a seat, and almost ran straight into Madi, who was standing there staring at them with eyes wide as saucers. 

"Luna! You had a _baby_? I thought you were _dead_ and they just didn't want to tell us!" Madi threw her arms around Luna, knocking into her hip in the process, and Clarke saw her wince. 

"Hey," Clarke said. "You want to go make sure there's a spot on the couch for Luna?" she suggested. "You can talk to her when she's sitting down. I bet Adria's getting pretty heavy."

"Okay," Madi said, charging ahead of them and chivvying one of the kids out of their seat at the end of the couch so that there was enough room for Luna. She nudged aside a game that someone had left on the coffee table so that there was a place to put her plate. "Here you go!" she said. 

"Thank you," Luna said. She set Adria down, then sat down herself, her eyes closing for a second in relief before they opened again. "Look at you," she said. "You got so big." She looked around. "You all did." 

"Kids do that," Madi said. "But you had a _baby_." 

"She's not..." Luna sighed. "I'm not her mama," she said. She grimaced again as Adria's foot or knee collided with her hip as she tried to crawl over her to get to the food. Luna set her gently on the floor, letting her kneel at the coffee table to chow down. "But I take care of her now." 

"Why?" Madi asked. 

"Her mama died," Luna said. 

"Oh," Madi said. "Was she a Nightblood too?"

"No. She died of cancer." 

"Oh." Madi scowled. "Why does everyone keep dying? It's stupid."

"Especially when you have the power to stop it," Ontari said, having come downstairs while Clarke wasn't paying attention and apparently decided to eavesdrop on their conversation, presumably on her way to the food. 

Adria jumped up and ran to her, thrusting her arms into the air. "Pen-a-win! Pen-a-win!" she chanted, bouncing on her toes. 

Luna looked at Ontari expectantly. "Are you going to pick her up?" she asked. "If you don't, she'll just start climbing you. She's a pretty good climber, now that she's got both of her arms back."

And just like that, they reached a stalemate, missiles armed and at the ready in a state of mutually-assured destruction. Ontari glared at Luna, jaw clenched, but finally tore her gaze away and leaned down to pick Adria up. "Big Pen-a-win!" Adria cheered. 

"Hi, Little Penguin," Ontari said. 

"Shrimp please?" Adria asked, pointing toward the table. Clarke looked down and saw that the ones on her plate had already been demolished. 

Luna smacked her forehead with her palm. " _Now_ she remembers," she grumbled. 

Ontari took Adria to get more shrimp, and after she was done eating, Madi got her a cupcake and took her over to where several of the kids were coloring – super heroes, naturally. Lexa sat nearby, supervising in case of any squabbles about who got X-Men blue or Superman red next. Aden sat next to her, close enough that there was no space between Lexa's hip and his own. 

"I can't believe that's Aden," Luna said softly. "When I left, he was Madi's age. Now he's practically a teenager." 

"Doesn't seem much like one now, though," Clarke said. "He looks like a lost little kid." They all did, regardless of age. They would seem fine for a little while, but then one of them would look up, look around, and then sink back into themselves, and Clarke knew that they'd been looking for Mason and then remembered he wasn't there to be found anymore. They were a puzzle with a permanently missing piece, and it would take time for them to figure out what the picture looked like without him.

"They were always close," Luna said. "Since we were Madi's age and Aden was Adria's. As soon as he arrived, she took him under her wing like he was her little brother. I had Sol, and she had Aden."

"Sol? That was your brother's name?"

Luna nodded. "What can I say? Our parents were hippies." 

Clarke felt one corner of her mouth curl up, just for a second, before dropping back. "Was he as young as Aden?" she asked.

"No," Luna said. "He was only a year and a half younger than me... but I was still the protective big sister, and he was the constantly annoyed – and annoying – little brother. Until he wasn't."

"I'm sorry," Clarke said. 

"Me too."

* * *

The guests left in a slow by steady trickle, and finally only a few were left. Titus had taken most of the kids home, but Gaia had stayed behind with Aden and Madi to give them a little more time. Eventually, though, she had to tell them it was time to go. 

Madi shook her head. "I don't want to," she said. "I don't want to go!" 

Clarke knelt in front of her, putting her hands on her upper arms and looking her in the eye. "I know," she said. "It's hard saying goodbye. But it's just for a little while. Just until school is over, and then—"

"School isn't over for _forever_!" Madi said. "Not for months and months and—"

"School is over for me sooner than that," Clarke said. "Two weeks. That's all."

Madi shook her head again, her whole body rocking with the movement. "Too long. I might _die_ in two weeks, all alone!"

"No," Clarke said, fighting against the burning in her eyes and the lump in her throat. "No. That's not going to happen. You're not—" She swallowed. "Wait right here, okay? Right here. I'll be right back." She dashed up the stairs and into her room, and came back down a minute later and pressed her teddy bear – the one she'd had since she was so young she didn't even remember receiving it – into her Madi's arms. "I know it's not the same as me being there," she said, "but I promise, I _promise_ you that he will look after you and protect you just like I would, okay? My dad gave him to me and I slept with him every night, and he kept me safe, and now he'll keep you safe. I _promise_." 

Madi looked down at the bear, then up at Clarke, and crashed into her, hugging her awkwardly with the bear (who Clarke had never named) squashed between them. Clarke held her and whispered to her how much she loved her and how everything was going to be okay, she promised, she promised, she promised. 

When Madi finally let go, Clarke looked up and saw that her mother had her arms around Ontari's shoulders, her cheek pressed to the top of her head, tears glittering in her eyes. Aden's face was hidden against Lexa's shoulder, and Luna was rocking back and forth with Adria cradled against her chest. 

"It's time to go," Gaia said softly. 

"Good night, my Madi-love," Clarke whispered, kissing her forehead. "I'll see you very, very soon."

"Good night, Clarke," Madi said, then took Gaia's outstretched hand to follow her to the car. 

Aden pulled away from Lexa, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, and Lexa rested her hands lightly on them, then ruffled his hair and nudged him gently on his way. 

When the door closed, there was quiet so deafening Clarke swore she couldn't even hear the sound of her own breathing. Lexa reached out and Clarke met her halfway, shoring up each other's crumbling facades of composure. 

"I'll do it," Luna said, shattering the silence. "As soon as you're back from school, I'll do it." She looked at Lexa, then Clarke. "I'm not letting you break your promise."


	15. Chapter 15

"If all else fails, stick her in the bathtub," Luna said. 

"Okay," Clarke said, adding it to her mental list (as opposed to the physical one that Luna had made for her, outlining Adria's daily routine in detail). "We're going to be okay," she said. "It's not the first time I've ever watched a kid. It's not the first time I've watched _your_ kid."

"I know," Luna said. "I'm just..." _Panicking,_ she didn't say, but she didn't need to. And who was Clarke to judge her for it? She'd never been in a situation where a choice she made was literally life and death... or at least not her _own_ life and death. And she didn't have a small human relying on her, expecting that when she went away that she would come back again. Except she sort of did, but it wasn't the same. Madi had other people to take care of her; Adria didn't.

Except she sort of did.

If that's what it came to.

"And Dory, obviously," Luna added. "Nemo or Dory and the bathtub. Probably not at the same time, but do what you have to do." She forced a smile, and Clarke made herself smile back, and they both knew how fake it was, but they did it anyway. 

Luna looked at Lexa. "Maybe it would be better if both of you—"

"No," Lexa said, cutting her off. "I'm going with you."

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it, and they stood there staring each other down until Luna finally looked away. "Fine," she said, and Clarke was pretty sure that there was relief mingled with the resignation in her voice. Whatever happened tomorrow, she wouldn't be alone when it did. 

But nothing was going to happen tomorrow. Nothing bad. Luna was going to be given the treatment, and then given a carefully controlled dose of a virus that would trigger an immune reaction, and her body would fight it off, destroying her Pramheda's in the process, and by the day after her blood would be as red as anyone's, and she would get to live happily ever after.

It was the only possibility Clarke let herself think about, because it was the only one that didn't turn their lives into something resembling a snowglobe, except instead of plastic flakes it was filled with shit. 

"Do you want us to stay?" Lexa asked. "We can—"

"Where?" Luna asked. "Where would you stay?"

"I don't know," Lexa said. "I just... don't want you to be alone."

"I won't be," Luna said. "I'm not." She didn't even try to fake a smile as she reached out and took Lexa's hand, pressing it between her own. "Go home," she said. "Sleep. Or don't... but remember that Clarke has a long day ahead of her tomorrow." The corner of her mouth curled up and she winked, and Clarke felt something loosen in her chest, just a little. "I'm going to spend the night with a certain little starfish, soaking up all the cuddles I can get while I can get them."

"You'll—" Lexa started, but Luna held up a hand.

"Abby said it will be at least 24 hours before she's comfortable releasing me, and that's assuming everything goes exactly according to plan, which isn't a guarantee." She took Lexa's hand again and squeezed it. "I'm not saying anything is going to go wrong. But we don't know that the timing of the reaction in a small-scale test and what happens in an actual human body are going to be the same, even adjusting for scale. What she expects will take six hours might end up taking twice that, or longer. That's all I'm saying. And I've never been away from her for a full 24 hours before."

"Never?" Clarke asked. 

Luna shook her head. "You saw where we were living. Where would I go?"

Clarke had to concede the point. "I'll take good care of her," she said. 

"I know you will," Luna said. "That's the only thing that making me even remotely okay with leaving her, even for a little while." She pulled Lexa into a hug. "Thank you," she said. "For this. For everything. Both of you." 

"Of course," Lexa said. "That's what friends are for." She didn't let go of Luna for a long time, and when she finally did, Clarke had to lead her to the car, because she seemed to have lost the ability to move of her own volition. Once she was buckled in, she stared over her shoulder at the window where Luna stood until Clarke pulled out and turned a corner so that the building was hidden from view... and then for a few seconds after that. 

Clarke drove them to her house and led Lexa quietly past the living room where her mother and Ontari were watching TV. She was sure that her mother heard them come in, but she didn't call out to them, maybe because she knew that there was nothing to say at this point, or maybe because she was lost in her own thoughts. Tomorrow wasn't going to be easy for her, either. 

Upstairs, they changed into pajamas and curled up in bed, legs tangled and fingers twined, their breath falling in sync. Clarke freed one of her hands to stroke back Lexa's hair, rubbing her thumb over her temple lightly, and then the corner of her eye when a tear leaked through her lashes. She wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that Luna would be fine, that there was nothing to worry about, but they weren't in the habit of lying to each other, and although she very much wanted all of those statements to be true, as Luna had said, there was no guarantee. 

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked instead. 

Lexa shook her head but pulled her closer, and Clarke wrapped her more tightly in her arms, her lips brushing her cheek, and then her lips, and their kisses were soft and slow and going nowhere, but it kept them anchored in the moment and maybe that was what they needed, all they needed. 

Light was only just beginning to creep in around the edges of the blinds when Clarke woke up. She carefully disentangled herself from Lexa and then the blankets, tucking them back around Lexa before tiptoeing out of the room. She left the door open a crack, not wanting the click of it closing to wake her love, and stopped in the bathroom before heading downstairs. She could hear someone – three guesses who and the first two didn't count – moving around.

"Good morning, sweetheart," her mom said, trying to sound casual and failing. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," Clarke said. "Thank you." 

Her mother got another mug from the cabinet and set it next to the coffeemaker, pouring for both of them when it was finished brewing and adding cream to Clarke's and sugar to both. She set Clarke's in front of her where she'd collapsed into a chair and cradled her own between her hands. "I would ask how you slept, but I don't think I need to."

Clarke let out a breath, not a quite a laugh. "I only know I slept because I woke up," she said. "Lexa's still asleep, or at least she was when I got up."

"That's good," Abby said. "It's going to be a long day."

"Is it?" Clarke asked. 

Her mother nodded. "Based on tests, we expect that from the time we introduce the virus, it will be about six hours before Luna's body starts to react. From there, we don't know how long it will take for it to essentially overreact, nor do we know what complications might arise when it does. We're as prepared as we can be for every possibility, but there's still a lot that we don't know, and we won't know until it's happening." 

Clarke nodded. "Do you... is there a chance..." She picked up her coffee and blew on it, then took a sip, hoping her mother would fill in the blanks for her, but she didn't, so finally she just asked, "Is there a chance it won't work?"

"Yes," Abby said. "There's always that chance." She sat down across from Clarke. "There's a chance that it won't trigger any reaction at all, and that's the best-case failure scenario. There's also a chance that it will trigger a reaction that we can't control, cause Luna's body to turn on itself so quickly, so intensely, that—"

"Okay," Clarke said, because she didn't want to hear her mother say it. As if giving voice to the possibility would give it life, and as long as it went unspoken, it had no power. Childish logic at best, but she had to believe in something. 

"The tests we've done have been very promising," Abby added, "and the latest results have been very consistent. We have every reason to expect that it will be a success." 

_And then what happens?_ Clarke wanted to ask. _If it works on Luna, what happens next? What happens with the kids?_ But she didn't want to put the cart in front of the horse, count her chickens before they hatched, and all of the other clichés that boiled down to 'don't get your hopes up'. 

"Do you want me to make you some breakfast?" Abby asked. "I was going to make eggs, toast... there's sausage or bacon if you want it. I need to make sure that I keep myself fueled, and it's no problem making more. I should actually make some for your sis—" She stopped, flustered. 

"It's okay, Mom," Clarke said. "You can call her my sister. I don't mind." She smiled a little. " _She_ might, but I don't." 

Her mother smiled back. "I didn't even mean to say it. It's not as if I can blame it on habit. It just... came out." 

"She's your daughter," Clarke said. "That makes her my sister." She shrugged. "Do you want help making breakfast?"

"Sure," Abby said. "And... do you think you could maybe check in on her? Not physically, just... text her, make sure she doesn't need anything, make sure she's doing her school work? She's good about it most days, but today..." 

"Today isn't most days," Clarke said. "I get it."

"Usually I take her to the hospital with me. She's got her own little corner in the lab where she works. But I need to be able to focus on—"

"Mom," Clarke said, "it's okay. I have no problem checking in on her."

"And she has hockey practice. Even though it's the off-season. I meant to tell her coach—"

"I'll get her there," Clarke said. "Don't worry. I'm sure Adria would love to go watch her pen-a-wins glide around." 

Abby smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said. "What would I do without you?"

"Find someone else to make sure that Ontari gets where she needs to go, just like you always did with me when you couldn't drop me off or pick me up. But I've got it." 

They worked side-by-side, making a huge pan of scrambled eggs, a tray of bacon, and a giant stack of toast before going upstairs, Clarke to her room and Abby to Ontari's, to wake up the other members of the household to eat. 

"I'm not sure I can," Lexa said. "My stomach is in knots."

Clarke hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I know," she said, "but you'll need your energy." 

Lexa sighed. "Maybe some tea and toast, at least," she said. 

"That's a start," Clarke said. She took her hand and led her downstairs, trailed a few minutes later by Ontari, whose hair was a tangled disaster and her eyes barely half open. She grunted something that might have been 'Thanks' at Abby when she was handed a cup of coffee, and slumped in her chair as she sipped from it. 

"Clarke is going to get you to practice," Abby said, "but I'm trusting you to be responsible and get your school work done here on your own today." 

"I know," Ontari said, rolling her eyes. "You already lectured me about it yesterday. And the day before, and the day before that."

Abby rolled her eyes right back. "If you think that's a lecture, you'd best hope you never do anything that actually warrants one," she said, pushing Ontari's hair back out of her face. The girl ducked away from the touch and shook her head to make it fall right back where it had been, but Clarke thought she caught a hint of a smile as she did it. 

"I'll keep you both posted as much as I can," Abby said. "If I end up needing to spent the night at the hospital, we'll have to figure something out."

"I'm old enough to spend the night alone," Ontari said. "I won't burn the place down." 

"I know you won't," Abby said. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it." 

"You told Luna twenty-four hours," Lexa said. "If she's—"

"If she's stable, I have a very qualified team who can monitor her," Abby said, "and a very short commute if I do need to go back in." She reached across the table to lay her hand on Lexa's arm. "Twenty-four hours is me being cautious, knowing that if she is at home taking care of a three-year-old, there is no way that she will be resting and recovering the way she ought to. You remember how exhausted you were after, even though you felt a thousand times better than you had when you came in." 

"That's true," Lexa admitted. She poked at her food, eating a few bites but not nearly as much as she probably should have. Clarke didn't force the issue, though, because it wouldn't do Lexa or anyone else any good if it unsettled her stomach more than it already was and she ended up getting sick. 

After they'd eaten, everyone showered and dressed (except Ontari, who said there was no point in showering before practice, and who could do her schoolwork in her pajamas if she wanted to). Abby headed for the hospital to prepare, and Clarke and Lexa headed to Lexa's apartment in separate cars.

"Lexa! Clarkie!" Adria crowed, throwing up her arms from where she sat in a booster seat at the table. Luna had slid it up to the table close enough that she couldn't squirm out of it, and Clarke was sure it was intentional. 

"Good morning!" Clarke said, forcing as much cheer as she could muster into her voice. She went over and let the little girl wrap her arms around her neck, hoping that she didn't have anything sticky on her hands as small fingers wove into her hair. "Are you excited to spend the day together?" 

Adria nodded, her face smashed into Clarke's neck, then let go. "We go see pen-a-wins?"

Clarke smiled. "Well, we're not going to go see the _real_ penguins, but we can go see Big Penguin Ontari and her team play on the ice!"

"Yaaay!" Adria cheered. "Big Pen-a-win!" 

Luna's expression was pinched. "But no skating today, okay?" she said, looking at Adria but Clarke knew that it was really directed at her. "We don't want any accidents today."

"No ass-dents," Adria agreed, and Clarke bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

Luna started to clean up the breakfast mess but Clarke waved her off. "I'll do it," she said. "You get her cleaned up and dressed." Luna nodded and pulled Adria's chair back from the table, picking her up before she could slide down herself, and carried her out of the kitchen. Clarke got to work cleaning up the plates and bowls and wiping up the crumbs. Lexa just stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her, and Clarke finally set the broom aside and walked over to her. "What is it?" she asked.

"You know what's going to happen, don't you? If things... if it..." Lexa swallowed, unable to say it just like Clarke hadn't been able to earlier. 

"I know," Clarke said. She hadn't been with Lexa when she signed the paperwork, but she knew that if anything happened to Luna today, Lexa became Adria's guardian. What that meant for her, for them... that was the real question. She slid her arms around Lexa's waist and pulled their bodies flush, tipping her face up as Lexa's arms settled around her shoulders. "Let's just get through today." 

Lexa nodded and rested her forehead against Clarke's, her eyes closing. They stood like that for a long time, until they were brought back to reality by a small voice at hip-level giggling. "Lulu, they _kissing_." 

Lexa laughed. "We were not," she said, then brushed her lips against Clarke's. "Now we are." 

Adria giggled again, and Clarke turned when she heard Luna's heavier footsteps. "It's time to go," she said softly, picking up Adria and hugging her tight. "You be good for Auntie Clarke," she said. "Remember she's going to stay with you all day and all night, like we talked about. You're not going to see me until tomorrow, because Lulu and Auntie Lexa need to go on an important trip. But I love you very, very, very much, and I will be back before you know it. Okay?"

"Okay, Lulu," Adria said. "I love you too very much." 

"I know you do, sweet Starfish," Luna said. She kissed her nose and squeezed her again, then set her down and patted her back, sending her off to play. She didn't quite meet Clarke's eyes as she reached for her and pulled her into a hug. "If you need anything... you can try texting Lexa. I can't make any promises, but—"

"You worry about you," Clarke told her. "I'll take care of Adria."

"Like she's your—like she's Madi," Luna said. "Take care of her like she's Madi."

"I will," Clarke said around the lump in her throat. "Go on. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back." She forced a smile and let her go. From Lexa she got only a quick kiss, because anything more might have shattered them both, and then they were gone, and Clarke was alone with Adria. 

She peeked in on her to make sure she wasn't getting into anything she wasn't supposed to and found her chattering animatedly to herself as she played with her stuffed toys. Trusting she would be all right for at least a few minutes, Clarke went to finish cleaning up the kitchen. 

Time crawled. Every time Clarke looked at a clock, she expected to find an hour had gone by, or at least half of one, and usually it had been ten minutes or less. She finally put her phone away completely so she wouldn't check it obsessively, focusing instead on making sure that Adria was happy and entertained. Around lunchtime she texted Ontari to ask her what time her practice was, since her mother had forgotten that detail. 

**ONTARI:** 4\. And I'm already halfway done with my schoolwork, if Abby asks. It'll get done before practice. 

**CLARKE:** Awesome. Don't forget to eat something. See you later.

**ONTARI:** I won't. I'm not stupid.

Clarke just rolled her eyes and tucked her phone away again. "Is that good soup?" she asked Adria. The little girl nodded, slurping up a noodle. "What about your sandwich?"

Adria grinned. "It's a moon sandwich!" she said, holding up one of the pieces. When Clarke had asked if she wanted it cut into squares or triangles (since Luna had noted that her sandwiches should be cut into quarters) she had impishly replied, "Circle!" So Clarke had cut it into squares, and then carefully trimmed each piece into as close to a circle as she could, to Adria's delight. (She would probably owe Luna an apology later, but hoped that she would understand. Maybe she could just buy her a cookie cutter...) Now one of the pieces had a bite out of it, and did, in fact, resemble a crescent moon. 

"So it is!" Clarke said. "A moon like your Lulu." 

Adria's forehead furrowed. "Lulu not a moon!" 

"But that's what Luna means," Clarke said. "Luna means moon."

Adria looked suspicious of this fact, but she didn't argue, just went back to eating. Clarke finished her own sandwich and soup (and the leftover scraps from turning squares into circles) and got Adria's face and hands cleaned up. 

"Naptime," she said, because that's what was next on the schedule. 

"No nap!" Adria said. "Pen-a-wins!" 

Clarke shook her head. "Penguins aren't until later," she said. "But if you take a nap, that time will come fast." 

"No nap," Adria pouted. "Not sleepy!" 

"You don't have to sleep," Clarke said. "But you have to lay down quietly with your eyes closed for a little while, okay? Otherwise you might _get_ sleepy and fall asleep during penguin-time."

"Nooooo," Adria said. "I not do that."

"Not if you rest now. Come on. I'll read you a story first." Which wasn't part of the routine, but Clarke hoped it might help her settle. "Let's go pick out a book." Luna had left a stack of her favorites by the bed, along with her favorite pajamas on top of the dresser, a list of her favorite foods... Clarke's heart hurt thinking about what it must have been like for her, preparing everything, knowing that it might be for the last time. 

"Get in your bed," Clarke said. "I'll cover you up with your Dory blanket." 

Adria did as she was told, and Clarke tucked her blanket around her, then sat and read her the book she'd picked out. By the time she finished, Adria was already out, her thumb stuck in her mouth. Clarke thought about pulling it out, knowing that Luna would have wanted her to, but in the end she left it alone. Let her have that comfort now, at least, even though she didn't know that she might need it more later. 

Clarke left the door open just a crack, then went to clean up lunch. She checked her phone and found nothing. No texts, no missed calls, and maybe no news was good news, but it was also nerve-wracking. Finally she gave in and called Lexa, not sure if she would answer or not, but she could at least leave her a voicemail, let her know that she was thinking about them and hoped that everything was going well.

Lexa picked up on the last ring, breathless, a note of apprehension in her voice. "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Is Adria okay?"

"Adria's fine," Clarke reassured her. It hadn't even occurred to her that Lexa might interpret a call as a sign of an emergency on _her_ end. "She's napping. I just wanted to check in, see how things are going there."

"Oh." Clarke couldn't see her, but she imagined Lexa's hunched shoulders dropping in relief. "Nothing has really happened yet," Lexa said. 

"You haven't started?" Clarke asked. "I thought—"

"No," Lexa said. "I mean, yes, things have started. But we're in the hurry-up-and-wait phase. The virus was administered around nine... after Luna almost changed her mind... so it's only been four hours. A little less, really. It'll be another two hours at least, probably." 

"She almost changed her mind?" Clarke asked.

"Yeah. After Abby gave her the treatment, she panicked a little, said that she couldn't do it. She couldn't risk her life like this, couldn't possibly leave Adria without a mother. Your mom reminded her that the treatment had already been given, and although some testing had been done, they hadn't had the chance to really study what the long-term effects might be without an immediate immune reaction – or one already in progress, like with me and Ontari – and if they didn't proceed, they couldn't be sure what would happen. She also reminded her of the results of all of the testing, and I may have reminded her that Adria and Madi and Aden and the rest of the kids are depending on her to see it through, and she gave her consent. It was a low blow, and I feel bad, but..."

"... but it had to be done," Clarke said. "Otherwise..."

"Otherwise we don't know who the next Mason will be," Lexa said. "I'll let you know if – when – anything changes. I promise."

"Thank you," Clarke said. "How are _you_?"

Silence, and then a sigh. "I hate waiting. I really, really hate waiting. I just want something to happen. I just want to know... what tomorrow is going to look like. I'm back to feeling like there's no point in planning for the future because I have no idea what to even plan for, and I hate it. Just when things were finally starting to come together, it feels like it's all falling apart again."

"It's not," Clarke said. "It's not all falling apart. Even if it feels like it is. I'm here. You have me. Whatever happens... you don't have to bear it alone." 

"Thank you," Lexa said softly. "Clarke... I love you so much. And I'm so scared this will all tear us apart somehow."

"It won't," Clarke told her. "I love you too, Lexa, and I'm not going to let that happen." 

"All right," Lexa said. Another silence, another sigh. "I should go. I'll talk to you later, okay? Promise."

"Okay," Clarke said. "Even if I'm not there, I'm with you. Don't forget that." No answer, so Clarke chose to imagine Lexa nodding. "I love you," she said again. "Talk to you soon."

"Love you," Lexa whispered, and the line clicked off. 

Clarke went to check on Adria even though it had only been a few minutes, and found her still sleeping peacefully, so she went back to the living room. She almost wished she had homework or something to work on, just to pass the time. Without it, she just scrolled mindlessly through social media, looking for something that would hold her attention for more than a few seconds and coming up empty. 

She woke up to Adria climbing up onto the couch, trying to drag the blanket from the back of it down onto her. "Nanight, Clarkie," she whispered, then stuck her lip out when she saw that Clarke had woken up. "No! Nanight! Naptime!" 

Clarke found her phone where it had dropped down between her hip and the back of the couch and looked at the screen. 2:30, so Adria had gotten a decent nap in, and they still had plenty of time to get Ontari to practice. She set the phone down and pulled Adria into her, wrapping her arms around her. "You have woken the Tickle Monster!" she told her, wiggling her fingers under her arms and over her belly until she squealed with laughter. 

"No, Tickle Monster, no!" Adria cried, and Clarke stopped immediately, just holding her while she caught her breath. "Clarkie, you silly," Adria told her. 

"Am I?" Clarke asked. 

"Yes," Adria said. "Is pen-a-win time now? After naptime is pen-a-win time." 

"Almost," Clarke said. "Why don't we do a puzzle? When we're done, it will be time to go get Ontari and take her to practice with the other penguins."

"Okay," Adria said. She went to get a puzzle, dumping the pieces all over the living room floor, and Clarke got down with her to help, although she barely needed it. She wasn't sure where on the child development scale puzzles fit, but it seemed to her that Adria might be some kind of puzzle-building genius. 

"All done!" Adria declared when the last piece was in place. She clapped for herself, and when Clarke didn't immediately do the same, she reached out and took Clarke's hands and pressed them together. "Yay!" she prompted.

Clarke applauded. "Good job, Adria!" she said. "Can you do just as good a job cleaning up?"

"Yes!" Adria said, and broke up the puzzle, putting it all back in the box. Clarke had to help with the lid, but once it was all closed up again, she cheered for Adria's cleaning up skills, and Adria beamed. " _Now_ is pen-a-win time?" she asked.

" _Now_ it's penguin time," Clarke said. They might end up being a little early, but better early than late. She didn't want to get Ontari in trouble; the last thing any of them needed was her attitude today. "Can you—" But Adria had already taken off, charging back to the bedroom and coming back with her stuffed penguins clutched in her arms. "Do we need to bring both of them?" she asked. "Can maybe just one come along?"

Adria hugged them tighter and shook her head solemnly, and Clarke decided it wasn't worth arguing. She just found a bag to put them in so they were easier to carry, then got Adria into her sneakers (Dory, naturally) and grabbed a sweater and a light coat to put on her when they were at the rink. It was warm enough outside not to need one, but it was going to be chilly near the ice no matter what. 

They had remembered to move her car seat from Lexa's car to Clarke's, but what they had failed to consider was the fact that Clarke had no idea how to actually strap a squirming toddler into the thing. It took several attempts, but finally she was pretty sure she had it right; at least it didn't come undone when she tugged on it, and there were no extra straps flopping around. She got into the driver's seat and glanced at the little girl in the rearview mirror, who was busy holding up Little to the window so it could see out. 

Ontari wasn't quite ready when they got there, so Clarke set Adria free to run around the front yard while they waited. When Ontari finally came out, Clarke popped the trunk for her to put her giant bag of gear in. Ontari had to dodge Adria to keep from smacking her with her stick, and she shot Clarke a look that clearly said, 'Are you fucking kidding me?' Clarke just shrugged in response, and was glad when it only too two tries to get an even wigglier Adria fastened back into her seat. 

Adria chattered to Ontari the entire way to the ice rink and didn't seem bothered by the fact that the only response she got was grunts. Ontari made a beeline for the inside as soon as she had retrieved her bag, leaving Adria trailing behind, pouting. "Why she didn't wait?" she asked. 

"I think she wanted to make sure she wasn't late," Clarke said. "She doesn't want to be the last penguin there, right?"

"I not last pen-a-win!" she said, racing ahead as soon as they were on the sidewalk and Clarke could trust that letting go of her hand wouldn't end in disaster. She bounced up, trying to grab the handle and pull the door open, but it was too heavy and Clarke had to do it for her. Once inside, Adria made her way to the rink and grabbed the edge, pulling herself up onto her tiptoes to try to see. 

"Hold on," Clarke said. "I've got you." She picked her up and balanced her on her hip, and Adria waved wildly at the girls who had already assembled on the ice. Several of them came skating over to say hello, and to ask if her arm was all better, and Adria assured them that it was, flapping it to demonstrate. They giggled and cooed over her until their coach blew the whistle, summoning them back. 

Clarke found them a seat where they still had a good line of sight, and Adria settled onto her lap with her stuffed penguins perched on her knees. She watched wide-eyes as the girls ran through their drills, bouncing and cheering every time anything remotely exciting happened. When they had a scrimmage near the end of the practice, she didn't seem to quite understand that there were teams, and just cheered for everyone indiscriminately. 

When it was over, the girls came back over to the boards to say goodbye, and Adria reached for Ontari. "I want to skate!" she said. "You help me!" 

Clarke shook her head. "Nope. Remember, Lulu said no skating. We don't want any ass-dents." 

"Ass..." Ontari started to say, then caught Clarke's wink. She hesitated for a second then said, "Come on, let her have a little fun. I promise there won't be any ass-dents. Her feet won't even touch the ice." 

Clarke looked at her, not wanting to go against the rules that Luna had set, but also not wanting to squash this moment of generosity on Ontari's part. Against her better judgement, she sighed and gave in. "All right," she said. "Just for a few minutes." She handed Adria to Ontari, who wrapped her arms around her, making sure she had a good grip, and then pushed off, gliding around the rink, slowly at first and then faster, then weaving as if there were still cones on the ice, and finally came to a skidding stop that sent up a spray of shaved ice in front of Clarke, grinning. 

Adria was beaming from ear-to-ear, and if Ontari hadn't still been wearing her gear, she might have choked her with her hug. "I love you, Big Pen-a-win!" she declared, kissing her sweaty temple. "Love love love!" 

"Aw, you too, Little Penguin," Ontari said, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that she couldn't blame just on the cold and exertion. "I gotta go change," she added, and Clarke pried Adria off her so she could do so.

When they got to the house to drop Ontari off, she hesitated halfway out of the car and said, "You could stay for dinner if you want. Abby left me money to order something." 

Clarke looked back at Adria. "What do you think? Do you want to stay and have dinner with Ontari?"

"Yes yes yes!" Adria said, trying to wriggle out of her car seat. 

"Sounds like a plan then." She got out and released Adria before she could hurt herself with her contortions and took her inside. They decided on the Italian place again, and Ontari went to shower while Clarke placed the order. She figured they could stay until it got to be toward time for Adria to go to bed, just to keep Ontari company even though she wouldn't ever admit she wanted it. 

They ate in the living room while watching a movie that was probably only dubiously kid-friendly, but Adria was paying more attention to Ontari than she was to the television anyway. Clarke had to remind her several times that she couldn't sit in Ontari's lap while she was eating; did she want spaghetti and crumbs in her hair? Adria giggled and told her yes, she did, and Clarke just rolled her eyes and laughed. 

Finally, Adria finally started to slow down, and Clarke knew it was only a matter of time before she went from a little tired to over-tired and cranky. "Do you want to come stay with us?" she asked Ontari. "I haven't heard from Mom yet, but..." She hadn't heard from _anyone_ yet, and she probably should have checked in with Lexa, but she'd been busy, and Lexa had told her she would let her know if anything changed. Suddenly her stomach was in knots. "There's only the couch to sleep on, but—"

"I'll be fine," Ontari said. "I'm sure she'll be home soon anyway."

"Okay," Clarke said. "Just... once I get her to bed, I won't be able to—"

"I said I'll be fine!" Ontari snapped. "I'm not a baby, and I'm used to being on my own." 

Clarke suppressed a sigh. "Okay," she said. "If you need anything, let me know." 

"I won't," Ontari said. She crouched down and hugged Adria and kissed each of the penguins on their heads. "Sleep tight, Little Penguin."

"You too, Big Penguin!" Adria said.

* * *

"Lulu, we home!" Adria called when they got back to the apartment. She ran into the living room, and then the bedroom, calling for Luna in an increasingly desperate voice, and it took Clarke a minute to catch up to her. 

"Hey," she said, "Lulu and Lexa had to go on a little trip, remember? Lulu told you all day and all night." 

"No," Adria said. "Lulu come home now." 

"I'm sorry, sweetie," Clarke said, "but she can't. She'll be back tomorrow." She hated herself for saying it, not knowing whether or not it was true, but Luna had said it first, hadn't she? 

"LULU COME HOME NOW!" Adria shouted, stomping her feet. "LULU LULU LULU LULU LULU!" Tears beaded in her eyelashes. 

"I know," Clarke said. "I know you miss her. I'm sure she misses you too, but she can't be here right now, so we're just going to have to make the best of it." She picked Adria up, kicking and shaking her head, and nearly got hit by a flailing elbow in the process. "Do you want a bath?"

"I WANT LULU!" 

"Ow!" Clarke said. "That hurt my ear. I know you want Lulu, but shouting isn't going to make her come home any sooner." She carried her into the bathroom and started the water running, then began to undress Adria, who was doing everything in her power not to cooperate. By the time she was finally stripped down, the tub had filled to the right level for a little girl, and Clarke plunked her in, adding a squirt of lavender bubble bath in the hope that it might work some aromatherapy magic and calm Adria down a little.

She found a bin of plastic tub toys and started lining them up on the edge of the tub, and after a minute Adria picked one up and put it in the water with her, then another, then another. Her shoulders and chest still hitched with hiccupping gasps of swallowed sobs, but she wasn't screaming anymore, and that counted for something. 

Clarke let her play for a while before washing her hair with lavender baby shampoo, and she didn't know if it was the scent or the water or massaging her scalp that did it, but when she was done Adria had finally stopped crying. Clarke let her stay in the water until she was so wrinkly she resembled a small raisin. "Okay," she said softly, "time to get out now." She expected another round of fighting, but Adria stood up and let herself be wrapped in a towel and lifted out without protest. 

Dry and pajama-ed, she climbed into her bed, and Clarke sat next to her and read her three books, just like Luna's instructions said, and then tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning," she whispered. 

She finally checked her phone and was disappointed to find that there was still nothing from Lexa. She sent her a text letting her know that she'd just gotten Adria to bed, and asking how Luna was, and stared at the screen as if she could will a response to appear. 

Finally, the three dots appeared, and a minute later, a message.

**LEXA:** She's stable.

**CLARKE:** That's good! 

**LEXA:** She's unconscious. They're not calling it a coma, but...

Clarke's heart sank, but she tried to hold on to what they – she – had learned from previous experience.

**CLARKE:** That happened with you and Ontari, too. 

**LEXA:** That's what Abby said. It just feels like it's been too long.

**CLARKE:** It's going to be okay.

**LEXA:** I hope so.

Clarke looked up from her phone to a small girl looking up at her, her eyes filled with tears, "Is Lulu with Mama?"

**CLARKE:** Gotta go.

"No," Clarke said, picking her up and settling her in her lap. "She's with Lexa and my mama. You'll see her soon."

Adria sniffed and nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "I miss Mama," she whispered, resting her head on Clarke's shoulder. "I miss Lulu." 

"I know," Clarke said. "It's hard when people go away, even for a little while. But Lulu will be back, and I'm right here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She held her and rocked her, stroking her hair and rubbing her back until her eyelids got heavy. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's go back to bed. I have a surprise for you there." She set Adria down on her bed and went to grab her bag. 

When she got back to the room, Adria was in the big bed. Clarke didn't even try to convince her to go to her own bed. She just climbed in next to her and let her snuggle into her side as she pulled the stuffed turtle she'd bought back at the aquarium and almost forgotten about and handed it to Adria. "He misses his family too," she said. "Do you think you can help?" 

"Duuuude," Adria whispered, and hugged the turtle tight, then got up to get her penguins, tossing them onto the bed and scrambling back up. Her arms weren't really long enough to hold all three stuffed animals at once, but she tried anyway. 

"Do you want another story?" Clarke asked.

Adria nodded, and Clarke picked up the next book in the stack, reading one after another until she was sure that Adria was really asleep. She moved slowly, inch by inch, off the bed, not wanting to jostle her awake again, and barely dared to breathe as she left the room.

When she checked her phone, she saw a message from her mom. 

**MOM:** One of my interns is going to drop Ontari off. I'm staying here tonight, and she thought she would be okay by herself but finally admitted she didn't want to be alone.

Clarke rolled her eyes, even though she completely understood.

**CLARKE:** I DID offer. I'll make her a bed on the couch.

When Ontari arrived, her jaw was set like she expected a fight, but Clarke just showed her where the bathroom was and where she would have to sleep. "I'm glad you're here," she said. 

"Whatever," Ontari said. She disappeared into the bathroom, and when she came out again she brushed past Clarke without looking up, even as she muttered, "Thanks."

* * *

It took a long time for Clarke to fall asleep, in no small part because, despite the fact that she was barely three feet tall, Adria managed to take up at least two-thirds of the bed, and every time Clarke found a way to comfortably position herself around her, she moved. Even when she finally got Adria down to taking up only half the bed, it took a while to get her mind to wind down. Every time she started to drift off, a flash of 'what if' would pop into her head and send her spiraling until she managed to grab hold of reality again. Finally, though, sheer exhaustion won out, and her eyes closed and didn't open again...

... until her phone started buzzing on the nightstand, jolting her awake. She grabbed it, heart pounding, and tapped on the screen to accept the FaceTime call without really paying attention to who was calling. 

"Hi Clarke," Luna said. "I need to see my baby."

She was pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes, but she was alive, and she was smiling, and Clarke's breath caught and her eyes overflowed. "Of course," she said. "She's right here. Taking up the whole bed again."

"Did you think I was kidding?" Luna asked. She sighed when Clarke turned the screen so she could see Adria's sleeping face, half-hidden behind her plush friends. "Can you... can you wake her?" she asked. "Just for a second, just..."

Clarke put her hand on Adria's chest and rocked her gently until her eyes cracked open. "Someone wants to say hi," she whispered. 

"Hi, Starfish," Luna said. "I miss you."

"Hi Lulu," Adria said, reaching up to pull the phone closer to her face. "You come home now?"

"Soon, Starfish," Lulu said. "I will be home very, very soon. You be good for Auntie Clarke until then, okay?"

"Okay, Lulu," Adria said. "I love you."

"I love you too," Luna said, and Clarke could hear she was close to breaking down, and when she looked at the screen she saw Lexa's arm wrapped around her already. "Good night."

"Nanight," Adria said, and closed her eyes again, her lips curled up in a smile. 

"Good night, Luna," Clarke said. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too," Luna said. "Me too."


	16. Chapter 16

Clarke was just starting to become aware of the world again when she was dragged into consciousness by a solid weight on her chest, and it occurred to her that being responsible for a three-year-old – _this_ three-year-old in particular, although Clarke didn't have a lot of experience with others to compare it to – might have been as likely to be the death of Luna as her Pramheda's was. Did she have no concept of personal space at all?

But she could think of worse ways to wake up than by being the recipient of a full-body hug from a little girl... although she could have done without the jabbing elbows and poking knees. She draped her arms over Adria and pushed back a stray lock of hair from her face, then kissed her head. "Good morning, Adria," she said. 

"Good morning, Lu—" Adria lifted her head, her entire face puckering into a frown. " _You're_ not Lulu!" 

"No, I'm not," Clarke said. 

"Where is Lulu?" It was as much accusation as question, like Clarke was hiding her from Adria on purpose and she didn't appreciate it. 

"She's not home yet," Clarke said. "Hopefully she'll be able to come home later today."

"Yes she is," Adria insisted. "I seed her!"

"She was on my phone," Clarke said. "You saw her on my phone last night. Well, really early this morning. Close enough." 

Adria scowled and sat up, her entire weight pressing down on Clarke's bladder. She stifled a groan and moved her back to the other side of the bed. "I'll be right back," she said, hurrying across the hall to the bathroom. On her way back she detoured to the living room, where Ontari was asleep on the couch, dead to the world. Clarke winced inwardly at the expression, vowing never to use it again.

When she returned to the bedroom, Adria had her phone and was poking it angrily. "Lulu, where are you?" she demanded, holding it to her ear and then close to her face. "Lulu, come out!" 

Clarke bit her lip. "She's not really inside," she said. "Maybe we can call her. Can I have my phone please?"

Adria seemed to seriously consider whether she wanted to relinquish it, but finally handed it over. "Call Lulu," she said. 

"What's the magic word?" Clarke asked. 

" _Please._ " 

"Okay," Clarke said, sitting down again. She sent a text to Lexa, asking if Luna was awake, a little worried that she wouldn't get an answer right away and would have to come up with some way to distract Adria. 

**LEXA:** She just woke up, why?

**CLARKE:** Someone wants her to get out of my phone Right Now.

**LEXA:** LOL Give us a minute to make it look less hospital-y. I'll call you when I'm done.

**CLARKE:** Thanks.

"It will just be a few minutes," she told Adria. "Why don't you go potty and then you can talk to Lulu."

"Okay," Adria said. She let Clarke lift her off the bed and set her on the floor, and she dashed to the bathroom. Clarke followed to make sure she washed her hands when she was done and didn't make a beeline for Ontari and wake her up, then settled back in bed with Adria at her side, and they waited for the phone to ring. 

When Luna's face appeared on her screen, she already looked better than she had the night before. There was more color in her cheeks, and her eyes were brighter... especially when she saw Adria, who lit up like a Christmas tree. "LULU!" she squealed. 

"Hi, Starfish! How are you? Did you sleep well?"

"Yes but you not here and I _not_ like it," Adria scolded. 

Luna laughed. "I'll be home soon," she said. "I promise. But I'm going to need to rest, so we can watch lots of movies, okay?"

"Okay," Adria said. After a quick wave to Luna, Clarke left Adria to chatter at her for as long as she wanted while she got breakfast started. She tried to be quiet, but from the way Ontari grunted and groaned, she wasn't very successful. Clarke didn't feel that bad about it, though; she would have been woken up by Adria soon enough, whether she liked it or not. She got the coffee started so at least she would have it as a peace offering. 

Ontari slouched into a seat as Clarke was finishing making French toast. "Is she okay?" she asked, once the first few sips of coffee had had a chance to seep in a little. "Luna?"

"She's fine," Clarke said. "I don't have all of the details, but she's alive, and looking good. I think it was a success." Unless it wasn't, and Luna was just putting up a good front, but Lexa would have said something, wouldn't she? If the treatment hadn't worked? 

"Good," Ontari said. "Otherwise Abby might decide to take in another stray." 

Clarke shook her head. "Lexa," she said. "If anything happened to Luna, Lexa would become Adria's guardian." 

Ontari frowned. "But she's not old enough," she said. 

"She's the same age as Luna," Clarke pointed out. 

"Oh," Ontari said. "Shit."

"Yeah," Clarke agreed. "But Luna is fine, so we don't have to worry about it." She put a plate in front of Ontari. "Speaking of, I'm going to go check on Adria. Be right back." She went back to the bedroom, and Adria was still talking, showing Luna her new turtle. 

"From Clarkie!" she said. "Duuuude!"

"Is that its name?" Luna asked. 

Adria shrugged. 

"It's time for breakfast," Clarke told her. "Big Penguin is waiting for you. You don't want it to get cold!"

"Big Penguin?" Adria looked at her stuffed penguin in confusion, then something clicked and she dropped the phone. "Big Penguin!" She went running to the kitchen, the phone and Luna completely forgotten. 

Clarke picked it up. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't realize—"

"It's fine," Luna said. "I'm used to it." She smirked. "How are your ribs?"

"Slightly bruised, I think," Clarke said. "How are you?"

"Good," Luna said. "Look." She held up a vial of blood, and Clarke could see that it was definitely more red than black. "I'm coming home this afternoon. Your mom hates the idea, but I'm not staying here any longer than I have to."

"We'll be waiting," Clarke said.

* * *

Clarke tried to hold Adria back when Lexa and Luna came through the door, but it was a lost cause. Toddlers were strong, slippery creatures, and Adria wasn't going to be kept away from her Lulu for a second longer. 

Not that Clarke didn't empathize; it took every ounce of restraint she possessed to not wrap her arms around Lexa and refuse to let go. Her fingers twitched at her sides as she waited for Lexa to take off her shoes and hoodie and check with Luna to make sure she was okay before she was finally within reach. Even then she hesitated, because Lexa's shoulders were up, her back stiff, and she honestly looked like she didn't want to be touched. 

"I need to shower," Lexa said. "I smell like hospital." She looked back at Luna. "Unless you—"

"Go," Luna said, unburying her face from Adria's neck. "I'm busy."

Lexa nodded and turned toward the bathroom. She made it two steps before she looked back at Clarke. "Are you coming?" Her voice was soft, her expression brittle, and Clarke nodded and reached out to catch her hand. 

"Of course."

Clarke wasn't surprised when, as soon as the water was running, the noise of it masking all other sounds and they were stripped of everything that protected them from the outside world, Lexa broke down. Just shattered, crumbled, collapsed against Clarke with enough force that Clarke had to adjust her stance to account for the extra weight she was supporting. Lexa's sobs were ragged, violent things, all of her fear and everything else she'd been trying not to feel for so long ripped from her, and Clarke just held her, murmuring that she was okay, and Luna was okay, they were all okay, until Lexa finally pushed away from her, not completely but enough, shaking her head. 

"It's not," she said. "We're not. We're not all, all okay. We're... we still have to do this, _I_ still have to do this again, and again, and..." 

"Oh," Clarke whispered, realizing what she meant - _who_ she meant – and that it wasn't over. It wasn't over for any of them until it was over for all of them, and Lexa wouldn't – couldn't – truly be okay until the rest of the Nightbloods were no longer Nightbloods. 

And neither could she. Not until Aden was okay. Not until Madi was. 

Clarke's tears mixed with Lexa's, and they let the water from the shower wash them away until it ran cold.

* * *

It wasn't until Luna was recuperating that Clarke realized that her continued presence, which was necessary for her mother to monitor her condition to make sure that the treatment had taken and there were no side effects, meant that she and Lexa were stuck staying at her mom's house. It wasn't ideal, but they made the best of it. In truth, they didn't spend a lot of time at home anyway, instead splitting their time between visiting with Luna and Adria (and occasionally watching Adria while Luna was dealing with testing or sometimes just getting much-needed rest), shuttling Ontari to and from hockey practice when her mother couldn't, and visiting the kids at the Nightblood house. 

When, after four weeks, all of Luna's tests were coming back as normal and she was showing absolutely no signs of any ill effects, Abby finally allowed information about the treatment to be released to the caregivers of the children and their parents (for those that had them) and then finally to the children themselves. 

Madi looked at Clarke, her eyes wide. "Really?" she asked. "We can get better?"

"Really," Clarke said. "It worked on Lexa, and Ontari, and Luna, so now it's time for all of you to get it too." 

Clarke had expected that there would be an explosion of excitement in the room when they were told, but it was almost eerily quiet. Clarke remembered Lexa and Luna telling her about the times in the past when they'd been told there was a treatment, a possible cure, and they'd been let down, and maybe that was why they were so restrained, although she wasn't sure how many of these kids had been through that. Maybe it was just hard for them to imagine a life that didn't have to be lived in fear of an abrupt end. Lexa still struggled with it sometimes, and for her it had been almost six months since she'd died and come back to the news that she would get to live as long as anyone. 

" _Really_?" Madi asked again. 

"Yes," Clarke said. She reached out and pulled Madi into her lap, hugging her tight. "Really. Someday you'll be as old as Titus... but hopefully with more hair." 

Madi giggled and snuggled into Clarke's arms. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she said, "I don't think it hurts. But it will make you feel sick before it makes you better, so that part won't be fun."

"Will you be there?" Madi asked. 

"If they'll let me be," Clarke said. 

"They better," Madi said. "I don't want to be all alone."

"You won't be," Clarke said. "I promise. I won't let you be alone."

* * *

Aden was first, as soon as school let out, because he was the oldest, and because he had no parents to worry about possible negative outcomes that made them hesitant to give their consent. Clarke tried to understand what it must be like to be in their shoes, but every time she came back to the idea that a chance at a life was better than no life at all, and if the treatment was successful, they could actually bring their child home instead of only getting to visit occasionally and most often through a computer. 

Clarke could see that Aden was trying to put on a brave face, but his expression was pinched even as the other children hugged him and wished him well, pushing cards and small gifts into his hands, his narrow shoulders drawn in protectively when Lexa put her arm around them to guide him to her car. Titus would be there at the hospital, too, but Aden had wanted Lexa, and Clarke was pretty sure Lexa would have been there even if Aden hadn't asked. 

Clarke stayed at the house with Madi and the other kids, giving Madi an art lesson and then leaving her to draw or paint whatever she wanted while she went to play a game with some of the other kids. It was a long day of waiting, although not as long as it had been with Luna. Clarke wasn't sure if her mother had tweaked something with the treatment or if it was just Aden's smaller size that made it act faster. Either way, she was glad when, just as they were nudging the kids into their bedtime routines, she received a text from Lexa, letting her know that Aden had woken up briefly, and that his most recent blood draw showed that changes were already happening. 

Gaia must have received a similar notification from Titus, because she told the kids that Aden was doing well, and in the morning after he'd had some rest, she would see about setting up a call so they could all talk to him. Clarke's stomach clenched, worried that the announcement might have been premature, but maybe Gaia realized that the kids weren't likely to sleep much not knowing. 

"You should stay," Madi said. "You can sleep in my room." 

"Not tonight," Clarke said. "I need to go home and check on Ontari." Maybe her mother would make it home that night, but she didn't want to take any chances. "She's home alone right now, and she might get lonely."

Madi scowled. "She doesn't even like people," she said. 

"She likes people more than she wants them to know," Clarke said. "I'll read you a chapter and tuck you in, but I can't stay." 

Madi heaved a sigh. "Fine," she said. "But will you come back tomorrow?"

"I'll try," Clarke said. Madi's scowl deepened, but she seemed to know that she wasn't going to get better than that for an answer, so she went to brush her teeth and change into her pajamas, and let Clarke braid back her hair so it wouldn't tangle before she tucked her in. 

Clarke ended up staying until she was asleep because Madi latched onto her hand and refused to let go, and Clarke didn't have the heart to pull away until her grip slackened naturally as she drifted off. She kissed her temple and whispered that she loved her, then closed her door gently behind her. 

"Good night," Gaia said. "Thank you for your help today."

"Any time," Clarke said. "They're good kids."

"They are," Gaia agreed. "I'll miss them when they're gone."

Clarke's smile slipped. "They're not all going, though, are they? Some of them don't have families to take them back." 

"But they won't need to be here anymore," Gaia said. "They won't need specialized care. We'll make sure they get placed with good families so that they get to live the lives that they deserve." She smiled. "It's just bittersweet. I've known some of them for practically their entire lives." 

Clarke's chest tightened and she felt slightly dizzy. It hadn't occurred to her that the kids who didn't have homes to go to wouldn't just stay here. It made sense, when she thought about it; why keep this big house for just a few kids, when they could go have normal lives somewhere else? But on the other hand, this was the only home they knew, or remembered, the only life they had ever lived, and was it really fair to take that away from them? To force them to adjust to new caretakers – parents – possibly new siblings, a new school, new everything? 

She wanted all of them to have the childhoods that Lexa and Luna and Ontari were denied... but she hadn't considered, hadn't even _thought_ to consider, the fact that those lives might be lived somewhere else. Somewhere where she wouldn't get to see it or be part of it. 

"Good night," Clarke said hastily, almost forgetting her shoes on her way out, too caught up trying to hold together pieces of a world that was crumbling. 

Did Lexa know? She had to, didn't she? But if she knew, why hadn't she said anything to Clarke? Did she just assume that Clarke knew too? 

Clarke pulled out of the driveway but had to pull over when she was just out of sight of the house because her hands – her whole body – was shaking, and she couldn't seem to catch her breath, and tears welled up in her eyes but didn't fall. She almost turned around. She almost went back, gripped with the wild idea that she would steal Madi away before she could be stolen, and warn Lexa not to let Titus take Aden home the next day or whenever he was released, and...

... and then what? What would she do with a kidnapped child and no place of her own and no job and only two semesters of college under her belt? 

She remembered the conversation she'd had with her mother: _You're going to be an amazing mother someday. But not yet._

She didn't _want_ to be a mother yet... did she? She didn't want to live the life that Luna was living, where everything she did, every choice she made, had to take Adria's needs into consideration first, and her own needs and desires second. Luna seemed happy enough, but was it really happiness, or was it resignation? 

Maybe Madi would end up with a family who was willing to still let Clarke see her sometimes. Maybe they could continue to talk on the phone, have art lessons via computer, and once in a while they could visit. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe that could be enough. 

Clarke forced herself to breathe, to calm down enough to drive, and when she got home her mother's car was in the driveway, so she hadn't needed to come back after all. She opened the door as quietly as she could and darted upstairs, not wanting to be seen and drawn into conversation because she wasn't sure she could hold it together, and she didn't need her mother telling her things she already knew about how really, it would be for the best, and she knew that it would be hard, but sometimes loving someone meant letting them go. 

She didn't sleep much that night, or the night after, and she only saw Lexa briefly when she came home for a shower and a change of clothes before going back to Aden, who wasn't old enough to sign himself out AMA like Luna had, and was therefore held for a full 48 hours of observation. When Lexa finally did come home after dropping him off and getting him settled at the Nightblood house, she was exhausted but elated, because everything had gone right and she was finally allowing herself to have hope that things really would turn out well for everyone.

Clarke didn't have the heart to burst her bubble, so she tried to act normal... but Lexa knew her too well to buy the act. "What's wrong?" she asked, stroking the sweat-dampened hair at Clarke's temple and then tracing her fingers down her spine. "You're only half here... where is the rest of you?"

_Half of me was enough for you a minute ago,_ Clarke thought, but it had been easier to stay grounded in her body when every nerve was sparking with sensation than it was when it faded to the soft hum of afterglow. "Just thinking about what happens after," she said. 

"After?"

"When they're all cured. When they're not Nightbloods anymore."

Lexa smiled. "We should take them to Disney World," she said. "Isn't that the standard celebration for winning something big?"

"Maybe their families will," Clarke said. 

"Maybe," Lexa agreed. "Those that have them. But for the ones the ones that don't... or for all of them and their families..." Her smile slipped. "Clarke, what's really wrong?"

"They'll all have families," Clarke told her. "That's what Gaia said. The ones that don't have parents, or grandparents, aunts, uncles, whoever wants to take them... they'll find families for them. Homes. So they can have normal lives."

"They can't do that," Lexa said. "They can't just..." She pushed herself up, dragging the blankets with her, leaving Clarke scrambling to cover herself against the chill of the air on her damp skin. She sat up too, putting her arm around Lexa. "They can't do this," Lexa said. 

"I don't think we can stop them," Clarke said. 

Lexa looked at her, her jaw set and her gaze sharp. "Watch me," she said.

* * *

Even though she was the youngest, and therefore logically should have been last, Madi refused to wait. Once she saw that Aden had gone to the hospital and actually came back, she declared that she was ready, she was going to be next, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. 

Clarke sat beside her hospital bed, hating how small she looked in it, hating all of the wires that led from Madi's body to the various machines that monitored her vital signs, even if she knew they were necessary. She hated the IV port that was fixed to Madi's arm, and the pit in her stomach that she couldn't seem to get rid of, even though they were now four-for-four with everything working perfectly. 

"Don't be scared, Clarke," Madi said. "I'm only going to get a little sick, and then I'll get better."

Clarke nodded. "I know. I just wish you didn't have to get sick at all."

Madi shrugged. "It's better than dying," she said. 

"You're right," Clarke said. "It's better than dying." 

She watched as her mother administered the treatment into the port, and then a little while later, the virus that would trigger it. Madi seemed unfazed, and once it was done, she went back to the drawing she was working on. She seemed to be on an architecture kick lately, or whatever one would call it when a child decided to draw mostly houses for some reason, instead of people or animals or anything else. 

"What are you drawing?" Clarke finally asked. 

"Our house," Madi said, turning the picture so Clarke could see it. 

Clarke bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't want to discourage Madi, but the drawing didn't look like the Nightblood house at all. "It looks smaller than your house," she said finally. "Where would everyone go?"

"Not _that_ house," Madi said. " _Our_ house."

The knot in Clarke's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

"For after I'm better," Madi told her, like it should have been obvious. "When I don't have to live in a special house and go to a special school to stay away from germs. When I can live with you."

_Shit._ Had she told Madi that when she was better they could live together? No, she wouldn't have done that. Had she somehow implied it? What could she possibly have said that would have made Madi think that once she had been treated, they would get to live happily ever after together? 

"Oh yeah?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Just you and me?"

"No," Madi said, rolling her eyes. "Lexa too, _obviously_. And Aden, probably, because he would want to live with Lexa, and I don't mind having him for a brother." She picked up a crayon and went back to coloring. "Maybe we could have a dog, too," she said. "Or a cat. We never got to have pets before. And we could have an art studio! It doesn't have to be very big. But we have to have a living room that is big enough for a Christmas tree. That's important." She kept chattering about what their house would be like, and Clarke tried to listen but her head felt like it was full of static. 

Finally Madi finished her drawing, which now included the four of them all standing in the front yard holding hands, and handed it to Clarke. "You should take a picture of it," she said. "To show Lexa."

"Good idea," Clarke said. She took a picture and sent it to Lexa, along with a text:

**Clarke:** This is the house Madi thinks we're all going to live in once she's better. WTF DO I DO?!

She got a response a few seconds later. 

**Lexa:** I'm working on it. We're not losing them. I promise.

"Can we watch a movie?" Madi asked. "I'm bored."

"Sure," Clarke said. She got out her laptop and they picked out a movie, and Madi wormed her fingers through Clarke's and held on as it started to play. 

Near the end she looked over at Clarke, flush-cheeked and glassy-eyed. "Clarke? I don't feel so good..."

Clarke pressed the button to call for a nurse and leaned over Madi, wrapping her arms around her as best she could. "It's okay," she said. "This is what's supposed to happen."

"I don't like it," Madi said, and then, more softly, "I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared," Clarke said. "But I'm right here, and so is my mom, and we're not going to let anything bad happen to you." 

"Promise?" Madi asked, her chin quivering. 

"I promise," Clarke said, and when her mother had come in and checked on Madi, she climbed into bed with her so she could cuddle against her and maybe feel just a little bit safer. "I love you," she told her, over and over as her condition rapidly deteriorated. "I'll be right here when you wake up. I won't ever, ever let you go."

She listened as the beeps on the heart monitor slowed, her own heart pounding in response, doing double time like it could compensate and beat for the both of them. She picked up Madi's wrist and held it, her fingers pressed over her pulse. 

The monitor's beeping turned to a single, long, piercing tone, and Abby and the nurses rushed into the room. "You need to—" her mother started to say, but Clarke held Madi tighter. 

"Come on, sweet girl," she whispered. "I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. Don't you let go." She pressed a kiss to Madi's head and squeezed her tighter still. "Don't you dare let me go."

A long, agonizing silence as they all stood absolutely still, waiting... and then the monitor beeped again, steadily picking up rhythm until it was back to normal, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and Clarke's eyes filled with tears that soaked into Madi's hair, but no one tried to make her let go, even as they checked the rest of the little girl's vitals. Finally they were alone again, and Clarke settled them both more comfortably in the bed. 

"You didn't tell me what color you're going to paint your room," she said. "You can tell me in the morning. Just rest now. It's all going to be all right." 

It must have been late when Clarke woke up to Madi shifting and squirming in her arms, because the lights in the corridors had been dimmed, and everyone moved on softer feet than usual. "Shh, shh," she whispered, thinking Madi might be having a bad dream. She brushed her fingers against her forehead and her cheek, and they were no longer hot to the touch. 

Madi's eyes cracked open and she tipped her face up to look at Clarke as she wrapped her in a hug. "Blue," she whispered. "I want to paint my room blue."

* * *

**Epilogue**

A loud horn signaled the end of the game, and Madi rocketed out of her seat and charged down to the side of the rink, determined to be the first (or at least the first after her teammates) to congratulate Ontari on scoring the game-winning goal. The only thing that kept her from going at breakneck speed was the fact that Adria was clutching her hand, forcing her to move at the three-year-old's pace. Aden followed a few steps behind them, ever watchful, and when Ontari came over to the boards, he lifted Adria up and over, depositing her into Ontari's arms so she could hug Big Penguin with all of her tiny might. Ontari accepted Madi's high five, even while grumbling that it was only an exhibition match and it didn't _mean_ anything...

Which was far from the truth, not that Ontari would ever admit it. The pre-season game had been arranged as a holiday fundraiser for a rare genetic disorder that the sibling of one of Ontari's friends ('Teammates,' she always corrected, because she didn't _have_ friends, and they all waited until she wasn't looking to roll their eyes) suffered from. It had been Ontari's idea.

"Are you sure you don't want to try hockey?" Ontari teased Aden. "The boys' team isn't nearly as tough." She was fighting back a smile, trying to maintain her mask of toughness and indifference – her game face, as it were, except she'd been wearing it since long before she put on a pair skates and picked up a stick – even while having her cheek pecked with Little Penguin kisses. 

Aden laughed and shook his head. "I'll stick with soccer," he said. 

"Spoilsport." Ontari grinned. "I've gotta go change," she said, turning her head to rub her nose against Adria's. "I'm all stinky. But I'll see you later, okay?"

"No," Adria said. "I see you now."

Ontari snorted. "I'll see you _again_ later," she said. "For decorating the tree." 

"No," Adria said again, giggling. " _My_ Big Pen-a-win!" She tightened her grip around Ontari's neck, and Clarke suspected Ontari was grateful for all of the padding that kept her from getting a true chokehold. 

"Come on," Luna said, reaching out to her. "We need to go home and finish our surprise for Ontari, remember?" 

Adria's eyes went wide. "Oh yes!" she said. "Surprise for Big Pen-a-win!" She looked at Ontari. "I making a surprise for youuuuu!" 

There was more than a little terror mixed in with the surprise in Ontari's eyes. "Oh boy," she said, trying to sound excited but falling just a little flat. Adria didn't seem to notice. "I can't wait to see it."

"But we have to go home to finish it," Luna said, "which means you have to let go."

Adria heaved a sigh and gave Ontari one more squeeze before letting Luna peel her away, keeping her balanced on her hip rather than setting her down so they didn't risk losing her in the crowd. They'd had a great turnout – better than they'd expected – and Clarke hoped they'd raised a lot of money. After all, you never knew when there might be a breakthrough...

Madi grabbed her hand as they made their way out of the lobby, and Clarke squeezed her fingers. Madi looked, beaming at her, and Clarke couldn't help smiling back. If she could have, she would have picked Madi up and carried her, just to have her close, but she'd shot up over an inch in the past six months and it made it awkward. 

"Are we going to have hot cocoa?" she asked in the car. "And pizza?"

"Of course," Clarke said. "And lots of cookies." Which they'd been making batches of every night for the past week in preparation. The process might have been quicker if they hadn't had so many young helpers, but it also wouldn't have been nearly as much fun, and she knew that she wasn't alone in favoring fun over fast every time.

Madi was quiet for so long Clarke finally looked in the rearview mirror to make sure she was okay. From the way her forehead was furrowed and her fingers were knotted together in her lap, she wasn't, but Clarke didn't ask her what was wrong. She knew Madi well enough by now to know that trying to force it out of her wouldn't work; she only had to be a little patient and whatever it was that was bothering her would come spilling out. 

Not this time, though, or at least not before they pulled up in front of the house, parking beside Lexa who had beat them home by just a few minutes. 

"Welcome home," Gaia said as they stepped inside, and it still sometimes felt a little awkward sharing their house with a stranger, although she wasn't really a stranger to anyone but Clarke. Lexa, Luna, Aden and Madi had grown up with her, more or less, and Adria was young enough, and had been through enough changes in the past year, that she seemed to accept just about everything as normal, as long as she had her Lulu to comfort her when she got overwhelmed. 

And awkward or not, it had been the best option – the _only_ option – that let them keep their family together. Clarke and Lexa weren't old enough yet, in the eyes of the state, to be Aden and Madi's guardians. It wasn't like Luna and Adria, where it had been in Maya's will that Luna would take over her care, allowing them to circumvent the state's rules. Add to that the fact that Clarke was pretty sure neither she nor Lexa were ready to be full-time students _and_ parents, and Gaia's offer to maintain guardianship of them while taking on a role that was closest to that of a live-in nanny (with added legal powers) to keep Madi and Aden from being sent off to other families had been a no-brainer. 

It had been equally obvious that Luna and Adria would come with them. After everything they'd all been through – Clarke included, although she still sometimes downplayed even to herself the more traumatic aspects of the past year – they were a family, bonded by blood in a way that had nothing to do with DNA, and they were better together than they would be apart. Someday Luna hoped to move back to somewhere near the sea, but for now she was content with Lexa's promise of family beach vacations. 

"We got the lights up while you were out," Gaia added. "I thought you would appreciate all of the swearing happening while there weren't small ears around to overhear." 

Clarke laughed. "Thanks," she said. "Is he...?"

Gaia nodded. "Dour as ever, but he came." She shrugged. "He was a curmudgeon, but he did – does – care about the kids. Now with everyone gone, it's like he's lost his life's purpose." 

"And retirement doesn't suit him?" Lexa asked, sidling up and slipping her arm around Clarke's waist. "I'm shocked." 

Gaia smiled. "I knew you would be." She glanced at the tree. "Why the he—ck are they blinking?" she asked, and went to go sort things out. 

Clarke tipped her head up, stealing a kiss from Lexa as she draped her arm around her. "Are we insane?" she asked. "This place is half the size of the Nightblood house. We're all going to be stepping on each other."

"It's not _half_ the size," Lexa said, wrinkling her nose in a way that made it very hard to resist the urge to kiss the tip of it... so Clarke didn't even bother trying. She might as well get in all of her PDA now before the place filled up with kids who might decide to groan and gag at grown-ups being mushy. "But it _is_ going to get a bit crowded." She shrugged. "I'd rather that than having fewer guests every year..." 

Clarke tugged her closer to hug her properly. "Me too," she said. She would never be able to fully comprehend the years of loss that Lexa had experienced, growing up surrounded by children close as siblings who you knew might not be there by next Christmas... or maybe it would be _you_ who was missing and missed... but even the small taste of it she had gotten was enough to make her grateful for the fact that that wasn't their reality anymore. 

People began to arrive, and soon the house, which on a normal day could feel a little snug with four adults and three kids living in it, felt filled to bursting. Her mother was one of the last to arrive, Ontari in tow, because they'd had to stop at home first so Ontari could shower and change. When she shrugged off her coat, Clarke felt a little lurch in her chest when she saw that Ontari was wearing one of her Dad's ridiculous Christmas sweaters. What right did she have...

But she had every right. She was part of the family now. Her (early) Christmas gift to Abby had been telling her one night, just before retreating to her room, that since it had been almost a year and they hadn't killed each other yet, maybe it might be okay if they made the arrangement a little more permanent. So Clarke was now legally the older sister of an alternately sweet and surly sixteen-year-old, and even if her father had never met Ontari, Clarke knew he would approve. Not just of her mother adopting her, but of her wearing one of his sweaters. Hell, if he was still alive, he probably would have _insisted_ she do so. 

Clarke hugged them both, a little harder and longer than usual, and Ontari only squirmed a little. Adria, on the other hand, got to hug her for as long as she wanted. Being small and adorable had its privileges. 

"How much did she complain on the way here?" Clarke asked when she had been dragged away. 

"Hardly at all," Abby said. 

"And how many times did you have to tell her she wasn't allowed to wear the reindeer _ménage-a-trois_ sweater?"

Her mother laughed. "Several." 

"Clarke!" Madi said, racing up to her and nearly crashing into her legs as she skidded to a stop. "Hi, Dr. Abby. Clarke, I need your help! I tried doing it myself but I messed it all up, and—" Her voice hitched and her eyes filled with tears. 

"Whoa, okay," Clarke said, crouching down and putting her hands lightly on Madi's upper arms. "What are you trying to do?"

"Make Mason's ornament," Madi said, sniffling. "I have to do it. It's _tradition_ and I was his friend, but I _tried_ and—"

Clarke pulled her into a hug. "It's okay," she said softly as she rubbed her back in slow strokes, applying pressure because she knew that was the surest way to calm Madi down. "I'll help." After a minute Madi's hiccupping breaths evened out, and Clarke followed her over to the table where she'd been trying to draw superhero symbols on a black glass ball. Mason's name was written on it in crooked, tripping letters. 

"See?" Madi said. "It's a mess." 

"We'll fix it," Clarke said. She sat down, and Madi fit herself between her knees, and together they sorted out where the drawings had gone slightly wonky. It might not have been perfect by objective standards when it was done, but it was a little girl's tribute to a fallen hero, and so it was perfect in its own way, and that was what mattered. 

"I want to put it up high," Madi said. "Like he's flying."

"Okay," Clarke said. She snagged Lexa, and together they lifted Madi up on their shoulders so she could put Mason's ornament way up at the top. The only thing that would be higher would be the star. 

Lexa caught her before she slid all the way to the ground, and they hugged her between them, adding Aden to the group when he came over – a little shy and awkward because he was a teenage boy and wasn't supposed to want affection, maybe – an island of grief in the middle of a celebration of life... 

... and Clarke had an idea. 

"Get the kids," Clarke said to the three of them. "The Nightbloods – former Nightbloods. Gather them around the table." Lexa cocked her head, giving her a curious look, but she did as Clarke asked while Clarke went to find the box of blank ornaments in all different colors – anything but black. She set one in front of each kid, and nodded for Ontari, Lexa, and Luna to join them. 

"This year," Clarke said, "I think we should start a new tradition. On _our_ tree, I want ornaments not just for the ones we lost, but for all of you that we didn't. For all of you that we _won't_." She caught Lexa's eye and saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard. Her own eyes pricked with tears in response. "Decorate them however you want," she said, "and we'll hang them all when you're done."

* * *

"It's beautiful," Lexa said, leaning her cheek against Clarke's head as she tucked her against her side. 

Clarke nodded her agreement. It _was_ beautiful. Not just the tree, but all the children and their families gathered around it. _Their_ family, acting like little hosts and hostesses to the friends that they no longer had to fear losing. Aden at one end of the couch, helping one of the kids through a particularly difficult level of a video game. Madi playing cards with a few of the others, gleefully declaring, "Uno!" as she got to her last card. Ontari on the floor with Adria, her very own pair of Big and Little Penguin stuffies perched in her lap, distinguishable from Adria's because Ontari's wore little hockey jerseys (Surprise!). Luna sitting on the couch talking to Abby; Clarke didn't know what about, but she hoped that her mom might find a way to gently nudge her towards planning for her own future when Adria started preschool... if not now, then at some point soon.

"Thank you," Clarke said, turning to face Lexa and wrapping her other arm around her waist. 

"For what?" Lexa said. 

"For... everything," Clarke said. "For inviting me back to your place. For making me part of your life... and their lives. For not dying. For loving me. For letting me love you. For—"

Lexa's lips pressed against hers, and Clarke found she didn't need words to express her gratitude after all. "I love you too," Lexa said, her lips still close enough to Clarke's that they brushed as she spoke, and if they hadn't been surrounded by people...

"We're hungry," Madi declared, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Is it time for pizza?"

Clarke reached out to tweak the end of her braid. "Do you want it to be time for pizza?" she asked. 

"Duh," Madi said. 

"Then you're in luck," Clarke said, as Titus came through the door carrying a huge stack of boxes. One of the other parents went to help him bring them into the kitchen. 

The kids all dropped what they were doing, gathering like a pack of velociraptors ready to attack, but then came to halt when Madi said, "Wait!"

"What?" Clarke asked.

"We almost forgot the star," she said. 

"Looks like you get to put it on again this year," Lexa said, "since you remembered." 

They got a ladder, and Clarke stood at the bottom as Madi climbed up to place the star carefully on the tippy-tippy top, then climbed back down and leaned back into Clarke's arms, beaming up at her and the star and everything. 

Clarke returned the smile, and while the rest of the crowd descended on the pizza, they gathered their family around them – even Ontari – for Gaia to snap a quick picture of them in front of the tree. 

And happily ever after might be a work in progress, but they all _lived_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of the story... which is really only the beginning of their story, but I will leave the rest of it to your imaginations. Thank you all for coming along for this journey - I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
